Love for the Wicked
by siggyhahn
Summary: Ororo is confused by feelings for a deadly admirer. Smutty AND schmaltzy. Reviews appreciated! Storm/Sabretooth. Ororo Munroe/Victor Creed.
1. Chapter 1

**I need a BETA!**

A/N 1: This is story is the fault of the the authors, **Natassja, Twinkylady**, and **Leonaria Dragonbane**, all of whom have written sexy-ass Storm/Sabretooth stories. If I left out authors, I apologize; I'm new to this pairing. I am also 1) irrationally obsessed at the moment and 2) completely inexperienced writing smut or angst. So we'll see how this goes.

A/N 2: Logan and Ororo are just good friends in this story. There may be an inkling of possible feelings, but for the time being, he's still infatuated with Jean.

A/N 3: Although this is set in the X-Men 1 movieverse, I drew upon the 1990's animated series a bit, as well as the comic. Canon be damned.

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She didn't disagree with Xavier's decision, not exactly. Theoretically, she believed in reform, in trying to understand those who were against them. Xavier had even imbued her with distaste for the word "enemy." There were very few true enemies, just allies who had yet to be convinced. Right?

But having Sabretooth and Mystique in a makeshift jail in their basement while Xavier attempted to create a dialogue with them made Ororo nervous. Sabretooth was a sociopathic killer, and Mystique was a master manipulator. And both were now residing, albeit temporarily, in the school where she, her friends, and her students lived. Being a teacher and an X-man was stressful enough without having people who wanted to kill you living in your house.

And Sabretooth had definitely wanted to kill her. She still bore minute scars on the left side of her neck from where his claws had dug slightly into her flesh during an attack. This evening she would have to take her turn standing watch over their captives, and she did not relish being in such close proximity with him, or with Mystique for that matter. Though no telepath, Mystique seemed to have an uncanny ability to choose forms that were emotionally powerful and seductive.

_I'm too tired for this tonight_. Reluctantly, she had brought her hike in the woods to a close. The grounds of the school were nice, but sometimes she needed to get away from manicured gardens and people of X-Mansion. She had spent the day tramping and floating through 1,000 acres of pristine wilderness just outside of North Salem. It was heavenly. But duty was duty, and she was now headed for the sky, and back to the mansion to relieve Logan, who had been in the basement watching over Sabretooth and Mystique all day. _Poor fellow. _If there was anyone could find hours of company with Sabretooth more unappealing than Ororo, it had to be Logan. _I better hurry it up; he's probably close to gnawing his own leg off._


	2. Chapter 2

"Hi Logan."

Logan looked up at her with immeasurable relief. He looked grizzled and grumpy, even more than usual.

"Ro, thank God."

She couldn't help but smirk. "So your day was that good, was it?"

"You have no idea," he said, rising stiffly from the chair where he had been trying to read a motorcycle magazine. "Sorry, you had to come back from the great outdoors for this," he murmured. The team had taken to speaking in low voices around the inmates. Not that they said anything of importance when in their presence, per se, but everyone in the house felt uncomfortable having Sabretooth and Mystique learn any more about them than was necessary.

"It's okay," she whispered. "I have some papers to grade."

"Good luck with that," he grumbled as he headed back up stairs. "And Ro, be careful. You need any help, just call me."

As Ororo settled into the chair, sorting her papers on a side table, she heard Sabretooth's voice. "You were hiking." So much for whispering, she thought.

"Yes, I was," she responded with her best attempt at a combination of politeness and curtness. She kept her head down at her papers to show that she was uninterested in starting a conversation, but she couldn't help glancing briefly out of the corner of her eye toward him. He was watching her intensely.

It was like deja vu. He had looked at her the same way in the train station when he had grabbed her by the throat. The look was predatory, and in her memory, it had been bloodthirsty. But now, seeing it again, it seemed the sanguinary undercurrent she had remembered wasn't there. The drive she saw in his stare wasn't a homocidal urge, but something else.

"You like to be out in the wild?" His voice was rough, and there was an implication in it, but his tone wasn't overly salacious and she reminded herself to be professional.

_Be polite, Ororo. Xavier is trying to build a rapport with them._ She looked up at him, with an impassive countenance. "I do sometimes."

"Your real name's Ro? Just Ro?" That question gave her pause. Should she tell Sabertooth her first name? Would it matter? It wouldn't be hard for him to find it out later if she refused. Before, she could answer, though, Mystique spoke.

"No, Victor. Her name is Ororo. Ororo Munroe." Mystique smiled at Ororo. The way the cells were set up, Sabretooth and Mystique could not see each other, but they could both see Ororo, and Ororo could see both of them fully. Mystique continued to talk to Sabertooth, all the while staring at Ororo. "She's from Africa, Victor. Did you know that? She used to be a little thief, but Xavier reformed her, just like he plans to do with us."

Sabertooth sneered. "Fat chance with that." Locking eyes with Ororo, he said, "So is this what Xavier did to you? Did he lock you up until you...yielded?"

"No!" Ororo responded, disgusted at the implication in Sabretooth's voice. "The only reason Professor Xavier has chosen to restrict _you_ here is because you two are a serious danger to the public. Do you think we enjoy spending our time down here watching you when we could be doing other things?"

Sabretooth stood up and walked toward the security glass that acted as the front wall to his cell. Coming as close as he could without pressing himself against the barrier, he said, "I don't know. _Do _you enjoy watching me?"

It was nothing more than an insolent comment, she knew, yet she hesitated. And he seemed to have anticipated her hesitation, sought it even. He hadn't simply muttered the words from a corner of the cell; he had drawn himself up and placed himself on full display for Ororo's appraisal. And much as she did not want to admit it, his form was magnificent. When Scott and Jean had put him in the cell, they had taken away all superfluous items. Now he stood with just a pair of jeans, old enough to cling to the curves and corners of his powerful legs, and a tee-shirt that stretched across his bulging chest.

But she couldn't say 'yes,' so she lied. "No." He stared hard at her, as if trying to determine her truthfulness. _But why would he even care?_

"Maybe," Mystique said, her voice suddenly a sonorous baritone, "she would prefer watching _me_." While Ororo had been looking at Sabertooth on display, Mystique had changed to look like an amalgam of Ororo's favorite movie star and an exquisitely muscled athlete from a local sports team. _How did she know who I...?_ The man, or Mystique rather, looked as though she had been carved in polished ebony with a pair of ivory teeth flashing welcomingly at her. Despite the illusion, Ororo gazed in admiration and wonder for a moment.

Watching Ororo's face, Sabretooth questioned Mystique. "How do you look, Mystique?"

"Oh, a little George Bruno, a little Demetrius Taylor." Mystique's smile became even more welcoming and reassuring than it already had. "You know, you can take a closer look. I can't bite you through the glass." Then, her face grew subtly seductive. "Although if you were to come inside, I could show you how real an illusion can feel."

Seeing the involuntary dilation in Ororo's eyes, Sabretooth's own black eyes narrowed very slightly. "So Ororo, you only like black guys?"

Pulled out of her mesmerized gaze by Sabretooth's question and by his use of her first name, she sputtered a response. "What? No."

"You know, I heard George Bruno likes to beat up his girls. Is that what you like, Ororo? You like it rough?" There was a clear edge to his voice, a threat, a lewd promise, and something else. Was it bitterness?

His creep toward increasingly inappropriate questions lit a flash of anger in Ororo. "No, Sabretooth. I realize it's probably beyond your ability to comprehend, but I do not like it rough. I like it gentle. I like gentle, kind men." _Calm, Ororo. They're starting to get to you._ Shaking her head, she wondered with no small bit of alarm at having been lead into a discussion about desires with Sabretooth and Mystique.


	3. Chapter 3

Mystique had grown tired of taunting her more quickly than Ororo had expected. Perhaps, a full day of tempting Logan had left her drained. _I'll have to ask him about that tomorrow._ She had fallen asleep on the twin bed they had put in her cell, and soon after, Ororo felt her own head drooping sleepily.

"You asleep, Ororo?" Sabertooth's voice roused her from her drowsing. Again, he used her first name. It was disturbing. A number of conflicting feelings twisted within her. Part of her was disgusted by his assumption of cozy familiarity when he was nothing but a killer. Another part of her struggled to believe he was as Xavier insisted, not evil, just deeply disturbed. And if he was human in there, somewhere inside of his deranged mind, that part of him deserved to be treated as a human. And there was something else disturbing her as well. As Ororo looked up to see Sabertooth's painfully intense gaze, she realized she had yet another feeling inside of her: attraction.

"Mmm," she mumbled sleepily. "Not really, no. But I wouldn't mind getting a few winks in." Just in case he didn't take the hint, she added. "And it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to get some sleep as well."

He grunted. "I don't need much sleep. And...the name's Victor, you know."

"I know. I just thought I would keep things formal."

Sabertooth sneered. "Oh, well fuck me for being so _informal_."

Ororo was momentarily taken aback by the quick ferocity of his response. _He's on such a hair trigger. _ "It's okay, Sabert...Victor. Maybe the formality is unnecessary. I guess I can call you Victor." That seemed to calm him somewhat, but his shoulders were tense as if preparing to strike out.

Neither of them said anything for a few minutes, and Ororo started drowsing off again. "So how did Xavier convince you to stop being a thief?"

It took a moment for Ororo to wake up again and process the question. "Hmm? Oh." She paused to rub her eyes. "Let's see. Being a thief wasn't that wonderful. I mean I'm good at it," and a little smile spread across her face, "but I didn't want that to be my life. Xavier's a good man. He allowed me to get a good education, helped me control my powers. And I agree with his ideals." She looked at Sabertooth...Victor, expecting to see a sneer, but encountered an unreadable mask instead. _Well, I guess impassivity is better than hostility._

Suddenly, she was uncomfortable with the silence. "Why did you join Magneto?" she asked to fill the space.

"The money," he responded without hesitation. _Ah, cynical enterprise._ Then, he added, "that and he lets me kill people, especially humans." A stone dropped into her stomach. The sociopath had emerged.

"And you like to kill people?" she asked, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. She had no interest walking down memory lane with Victor's sick thoughts. Her body stiffened as she prepared for his despicable response.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I guess." There was certainly no remorse in his answer, but he seemed to notice her distaste for the subject matter and, to her surprise, changed the subject. "Nice wildlife in New York. Not as nice as in Canada, but real nice."

"Yes," she agreed awkwardly, thrown off by the change in conversation. "And not as nice as in Kenya, but very nice." She smiled slightly. "Well, maybe not so much woods as savannahs."

"You hunt?"

She laughed in surprise. "No, I don't."

"What are you a veggie or something?" Victor looked vaguely indignant.

She laughed again despite herself. "No, I'm not. I'm just surprised that you asked me that." _This is such an odd conversation._ On second thought, she supposed she should have expected it. She couldn't imagine Victor spent much time working on his conversational skills. What amazed her was that he was even trying to have a normal conversation in the first place. "No, I don't hunt. I just don't have any interest."

"Yeah, I forgot. You like things gentle. I guess that's why you're with these weaklings."

She didn't say anything. His words were too banal to be offensive, and she felt no need to respond to them.

"So I guess you like to sleep with weaklings, too."

Her mouth dropped open.

"The Runt, Wolverine, you sleeping with him?"

She shook her head. "Wolverine is hardly a weakling." Then she stopped herself. "I'm not talking about this with you."

"Fine. I don't give a shit."

Victor fell silent. _Goddess, what was that about?_ She expected that as before, he would resume talking after a few minutes. As the time stretched out, though, it seemed he had lost his desire to talk. Ororo was undeniably sleepy by then, and saw no need to stay awake on the off chance Victor might regain an interest in conversation. For some reason, she felt bad drifting off to sleep without making a placating gesture. So just before she put her feet up on the ottomon to settle in for a few hours nap, she said, "Good night, Victor." Her greeting was met with silence, but as she felt the weight of sleep drag her into unconsciousness, she thought she heard Victor whisper, "Good night, Ororo."


	4. Chapter 4

At around 4 am Ororo awoke to Scott's hand gently shaking her awake. "Ro, why don't you try to get some sleep in your own bed?" She smiled groggily at him and stood up to stretch, muttering about being asleep on watch.

Scott grinned back at her. "Yes. You are terrible sentry." She pouted playfully, and Scott sweetly added, "But you know if the gorilla here had tried to knock the walls down, you would have been the first one on the scene."

A growl from the side of the room roused them from their banter. "What's that you're mumbling about, pipsqueak?"

Scott turned toward the sound, reflexively taking an aggressive stance. "Nothing to worry your ugly little head about, Sabretooth."

"Scott," Ororo scolded quietly, laying her hand on his arm. "Just ignore him. Remember, for Xavier's sake, we should be try to be peaceful." Reluctantly heeding her advice, Scott calmed himself and began turning away when Sabretooth spoke up again.

"You using Ororo there as an excuse to turn tail? Coward."

Instantly, Scott was back to a flashing anger. "Oh, and you're a brave one there, protected by the Professor. I can't wait until Xavier gives up on you."

"Me and you both, dickhead."

The irony of the situation was not lost on Ororo, but she didn't think pointing it out would be appreciated by anyone. Sighing, she gathered her things, kissed Scott on the cheek, and made for the stairs.

"You gonna give me a kiss like that one day, sweetheart?" Victor was now standing and leering at her from behind the glass.

Scott, ever protective and loyal, jumped to her defense. "She would never. Not in a hundred of your mangy years."

Victor's leer metamorphosed into something more intense. "You're right, when she does kiss me, it's not going to be as limp-wristed as that. It'll be..."

But Ororo didn't stick around to hear the rest.


	5. Chapter 5

The debate was heated that night. Xavier's work with Sabretooth and Mystique had made little progress so far, and Logan and Scott wanted the whole "experiment" stopped before someone got hurt. Jean, who was helping the Professor in his attempts to reach out, wanted to keep trying, and Kurt thought it was the pious thing to do try to "save their souls." Ororo herself was divided. She didn't want to believe that anyone could truly be beyond rehabilition, but when she interacted with their two "guests" - the Professor insisted on using the word - she couldn't help but wonder if the effort was futile.

One thing the others seemed to agree on, however, was that Ororo should no longer stand watch over Sabretooth. Ororo had protested, not wanting to cow out, but they were insistent. Kurt didn't think it was seemly that either she _or_ Jean guarded Sabretooth, especially at night. As quaint as Kurt's sentiment was, she and Jean politely ignored it.

Logan was concerned because Victor had seemingly tried to kill her twice. She reminded him that Sabretooth had been wholly unsuccessful, but Logan was unconvinced. "Ro, you don't having a healing factor like he does. It would only take one slip up on your part for him to get it right."

Scott was concerned because he had witnessed Victor's outburst. Ororo laughed and asked him if he really believed she was so frail as to be intimidated by some rough talk. She was hardly a child, she told him. But Scott shook his head 'no' over and over again. "Ororo, the way he was staring at you, there was something not right about it."

"There are a lot of things not right about him!" Ororo replied, exasperated with everyone's coddling. "And I'm sure he harassed Jean same way." But when she looked to Jean for agreement, she found Jean shaking her head somewhat ominously.

It was Jean's and Xavier's appraisal that finally gave her chills and convinced her to yield the task of watchstanding to her teammates. "Ororo," Xavier said seriously, "Victor is not telepathic, but he blocks my probing better than anyone I have ever encountered."

"What do you mean? You see blankness?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Jean spoke up. "It's rage. Pure rage. It's the most incredible thing." The group fell silent for a moment, lost in their own in thoughts about the murderous half-man they had a few feet below them. "But Ro, how can I put this?" She took a breath as if preparing to broach a sensitive topic. "We probed him gently about a variety of things, each time meeting a wall of fury. No. An _engulfing_ fire of fury. But when I...you see I too felt that there was something about you he was fixated upon, and when I probed him about you, it was like the fire increased tenfold."

Ororo felt like someone had injected icewater into her veins. "But," she choked, "why?"

"We do not know, Ororo," Xavier said gently. "But perhaps it would be better if you kept yourself separate from him."


	6. Chapter 6

Later that night, Ororo found herself sitting on the porch staring at the garden. She should have been relieved not to have to spend her time in the basement being taunted by Sabretooth and Mystique, but instead she felt odd. She didn't feel quite like she was being left out, more that she was _missing_ out. Strange.

Victor. She found herself still thinking of him in terms of his real name and wondered if he had shifted his attention to Jean now that she was banned from going downstairs. A shameful wisp of jealousy floated up, which she quickly surpressed. _What is wrong with me?_ Perhaps, she had simply gone too long without a man, that even the advances of Victor Creed were, to some hidden part of her mind, welcome. It was too pathetic and woeful a thought, so she dismissed it.

A dark form stepped out onto the porch and sat down next to her. "Kind of chilly for sitting out here without a jacket."

She smiled at Logan. "Haven't you realized by now that I am immune to weather? Or were you talking about yourself?"

He scrunched his face. "Yeah, that's it. _I'm_ the one that's cold. Maybe you could use some of your body heat to help keep me warm." He held his right arm open, an invitation to slide in next to him. She smirked, but took him up on his offer, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"Logan, do you think I'm pitiful?"

"Now, where'd you get a damned idea like that?" he asked incredulously. "You're the opposite of pitiful."

"But men don't like me," she said in a teasing, school girl tone.

Logan turned, and looked at her seriously. "Is that what you think?" he asked quietly. His eyes searched her for a moment, before she shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know. I was just trying to figure out why Sabretooth fixated on me. I thought that perhaps he smelled weakness, or some sort of pathos."

Logan sighed and pulled her a tad closer. "Well, I don't know what 'pathos' means, but as far as men, I don't think it has anything to do with them not liking you, and everything to do with being intimidated by you. Hell, _I'm _ intimidated by you."

Ororo lifted her head off his shoulder momentarily. "Logan, I thought that you weren't intimidated by anyone or anything. You certainly aren't intimidated by Scott, chasing the poor man's girlfriend right under his nose."

"Are you intimidated by Scott?"

At this, she laughed. "No."

"Well, there you go."

She chuckled into his shoulder before becoming subdued again. "And what about Sabretooth?"

"Sabretooth is a psychotic bastard and nothing terrible coming from him surprises me."

Ororo listened to Logan's heartbeat speed up at the talk of Victor. "You really despise him, don't you?"

"And I shouldn't?" Logan snapped back.

"Well, Logan, please don't take this the wrong way, but you don't remember what you did before arriving here. What if you did some..."

He cut her off sharply. "What if I was just like Sabretooth?" He growled defensively, but there was a nervous edge to his voice.

"What if you were? Now you're not. Now you're the wonderful Wolverine we all know and love." She grinned at him, and he smirked despite himself. "But you didn't answer my other question, Logan. Why do you think Sabretooth has targeted me exactly?"

Logan's demeanor grew grouchy as it always did when he was unsure or uncomfortable. He shifted irritably in his seat, but kept a protective arm around Ororo. "Maybe he's just playing some mind game. Maybe because he was unsuccessful killing you, he's decided to screw with your head. He's fucked up, what can I tell you?"

A mind game. Vengeance for humilating him. A ghost of disappointment brushed past her as she recognized the logic of the idea. It made sense, but somewhere inside of her, she rebelled. "I'm sure you're right, Logan," she sighed. But somewhere at the edge of her consciousness, a secret thought stirred. _But I hope you're not._


	7. Chapter 7

That night she had troubling dreams. She had woken in a cloudy, underwater version of the X-mansion. It was dark. She was in her bed and a wavering silhouette stood between her side and the window. At first terror threatened to take control as she realized her limbs were caught in a semi-paralysis, but incrementally - was it in minutes or hours - it dawned on her. She was having a nightmare.

The fear ebbed, and she found she could exert some control over her body. _Lucid dreaming. _She thrilled slightly at the possibilities. As she tested the limits of her movement, however, the figure descended upon her, triggering another rising panic. Her muddled mind forced through the fog, reminding herself not to worry. _It's not real. Just relax. _

Her dream-self lifted her arms through what felt like molasses, and pushed experimentally against the figure which had become an immovable weight above her. Even with her limited control, though, her arms were flimsy, barely able to lift themselves. _It's just the dream. Concentrate on breathing. _Deep slow breaths raised her chest against, then away from the weight above, which itself seemed to be breathing.

She expected the scene to change as it so often does in dreams, but it held steady. The weight was simply there, and she was simply breathing, helpless but unafraid below it. As the moments passed, however, more details began to fill in. The weight had texture and form, and smell; she sensed a vaguely musky scent behind the cloudy dream atmosphere.

And then suddenly there was sensation. It felt like hands, hands sliding up her legs, pushing her nightgown slowly up, up, up above her waist. Her pulse quickened and her groin tightened as she felt more hands - or were they the same hands - slide up under her gown to her breasts. They cupped them, fondled them, pulled gently at her nipples, leaving her wondering whether it was a part of the nightmare or a part of the dream that was under her control.

Lips tickled at her throat. Something wet and hot slid across it, while something else - hard and sharp - dug and scraped gently at the skin. She moaned loudly, enough to wonder foggily at the vividness of her reverie, though soon after she was lost to her senses, her dream thinking too slow and hazy for anything else.

A rumbling from somewhere, almost inside of her, spoke. "The name is Victor." She moaned slightly as a distant connection was made in the recesses of her mind. "Say it." Palms slid down over her groin, igniting it in an inhuman fire. Fingers caressed and kneaded her inner thighs, causing her to moan again. "Say my name." Words, sensations, desire. They seemed to exist as one in the murky aether that surrounded her. The fingers tightened. "Say it!" Her mouth felt clumsy as she tried to form sounds. "Viiiictooooor," she breathed. In response, a deep heated growl raked over her, setting her skin trembling with arousal.

The fingers slid under her buttocks, kneading them, burrowing between them, grazing what lay within. Her breaths stumbled out desperately as this taboo was touched and prodded. The touching faded gradually as the hands slid down further to grip the underside of her thighs, and she gasped as she felt her legs being pulled wide.

In the distance, a distorted voice shouted something unintelligible, and the possessing hands froze in tight embrace around her. She felt the weight press down between her open legs and the lips resume sucking her throat relentlessly. The shouting repeated, and after a pause that seemed to last for hours, the weight above her rumbled, rose, and finally disappeared. Her body quivered at the cold emptiness above her. Yet her breath came more easily, and before long, she fell out of the dreamlike haze and into blackness.


	8. Chapter 8

The banging on the door was excruciating. _Oh, my head._ Sitting up, she winced at the pounding in her skull. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up on a wad of paper towels. _Why did I drop these here?_ She bent to pick them up when the banging started up again.

"Ro, get up." It was Scott's voice. "We have an emergency. Meeting downstairs now."

"I'm up," she croaked. She was surprised by the painful irritation in her throat and nose. Groaning, she made a note to herself to get some cold medicine. _Maybe I should have worn a coat last night, after all._ Rummaging clumsily through her drawers, she quickly gave up the idea of changing her clothes and headed downstairs.

What she encountered in the Professor's office was a cacophony of sounds. Jean was trying to console a weeping Anna Marie while Logan shouted at Xavier and, just for good measure, Scott. Kurt's attempts to calm people down with moral platitudes served only to rile Logan even more.

Xavier glanced wearily at her as she approached. "Sabretooth and Mystique escaped," he said simply.

"What?" she asked incredulously. Then, looking at Anna Marie crying pitieously, a sickening feeling came over her. "Anna Marie, are you hurt?"

Jean shook her head. "Thank goodness no. She was knocked out with chloroform, but she's basically fine, except for a little headache."

"I'm so sorry," Anna Marie wailed. "I just thought Logan was hurt."

Ororo looked around for someone to explain things to her, and Scott spoke up. "Mystique took Logan's form. Then, this 'Logan' told Marie that Mystique had escaped and locked him in the cell. When Marie released 'him,' Mystique knocked her out with some choroform that was left in the basement for subduing Sabretooth."

"But why was Anna Marie standing watch? She's just a child."

"Exactly," Logan seethed, glaring at Scott. "See? It's obvious to everyone but you." The shouting erupted again, and it was several minutes before a semblance of order was recovered. It took even longer for Ororo to get the full story, but eventually she learned that Jean and Xavier had decided to spend the night in Montreal after their day-long medical conference. Scott had been on watch, but had to pick-up Logan from a bar in Syracuse where Logan had been stranded after a bar fight - a "scuffle" Logan called it - which had damaged his bike. Anna Marie had been so eager to take on responsibility, and since the watches had by and large been uneventful, and since both Sabretooth and Mystique had been asleep at the time, Scott had decided to let her get her feet wet by taking over his watch for a couple hours while he was gone. He had assumed it would be a very easy assignment.

"So where are they now?" Ororo asked Xavier.

The Professor shook his head. "They had approximately 2 and a half hours before Jean and I arrived home and noticed their absence. I've tried, but they are too far away for me to sense without the help of Cerebro, which means they are too far away for us to easily recover, if at all."

"Says you, Professor," Logan growled. "You send me, and I'll recover them."

"I appreciate your willingness to attempt a reapprehension, but it would not be a good use of your time. I had hoped to reach out to one or the both of them while they were in our custody. But even in the unlikely event that we were able to bring either of them back, their resolve against cooperating with us has only been reinforced by this escape. Perhaps one day, we will have another opportunity."

Logan grunted in disgust. "This whole place stinks of Sabretooth now, and for nothing." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Scott looked none to happy either, but retained his composure. One by one, the team filed out of the office until only Ororo and Xavier remained. Before she left, Ororo patted the Professor gently on the back. "If it's any consolation, I think you were right to try." Xavier smiled gratefully in reply.

When she returned to her room, she picked up the wad of paper towels she had left on her floor. _Was I blowing my nose last night?_ As she moved to toss them in the wastebasket, she caught a wiff of something acrid. Bringing the towels closer to her face, she gasped.

Chloroform.

Inklings of her dream stirred in the back of her mind, and though she couldn't remember it, not really, she found herself quivering with displaced arousal. _Oh, Goddess._ She tried her hardest to remember what if anything had happened. She stripped in front of the mirror, but found no conclusive evidence of... All she found was a mild discoloring at the base of her throat, but it seemed too expansive to be from someone's mouth. _Although Sabretooth does have a large bite._

There was one way to find out for sure; bring Logan to her room and have him sniff it out. Standing nude with her nightgown in her hands, however, she was paralyzed with indecision. Slowly, she brought the gown up to her nose and inhaled, thinking, half-hoping that her unsophisticated nose would sense nothing. But it didn't sense nothing. It sensed something. It was weak, a lingering faded scent of musk that she instantly recognized. _Musk. His musk._ And she was nearly knocked down with a deluge of memory. The sensations from the night before, the feeling of his hands on her breasts, on her abdomen, on her thighs were suddenly back in vivid detail, more clearly than they had been the night before. She was overwhelmed with longing for his touch, and for a moment she let herself wallow in it.

But then the moment was over. _You are not well, Ororo._ Shaking with dismay for herself, she threw the nightgown in the laundry chute. She stripped the bed and pillows and threw the linens in the chute after it. The freshmen were given the task of house laundry, and though the staff often complained that they used too much bleach, this time, it was exactly what she wanted. Finally, she turned on the shower as hot as she could stand it and climbed in and stayed until the water ran cold.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thank you to those who continue to read. And thank you especially to the six people who have taken time to review: Lone-Angel-1992, Jade of Purple, Chigirl, Gothicpug, shejams, and EricaWolf

A/N 2: This story will be switching to an M rating soon. I hope I don't lose any readers, but if I do, thank you for coming along for the ride so far.

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The days that followed weighed heavily. Ororo could tell herself that she did not know for sure what had happened the night of Sabretooth's escape, but she would be lying. And she could tell herself that she hadn't genuinely enjoyed it, but that would be a lie also. Perhaps the worst part was feeling the need to hide it. If she told, there would be an uproar. The boys, those wonderful gentlemen, would surely demand Sabretooth's head on a platter, and Xavier would be hard-pressed to refuse them. From the females, there would be an upswell of sympathy for having been violated by someone so foul. But she didn't want any of that. She didn't want it, because she had liked it. It made her sick to think it, but it was true. _Oh, Goddess, I liked it._

She felt especially guilty hiding the occurrence from Logan. Perhaps it was because she knew that if he were to come to her room, even now, he would probably be able to sense Sabretooth's presence. There was certainly some object that Sabretooth had touched that she had not wiped clean. Even his feet on the carpet might be enough, but whatever it was, she was sure that Logan would catch it, and she felt herself becoming distant from him out of fear that some friendly happenstance might bring him by her room.

Despite her shame, or perhaps because of it, the need to confide in someone began to gnaw at her. She weighed her her options, considering Logan and Xavier, before finally deciding that she needed to talk to a woman, a girlfriend. She waited for a day when Jean was working alone in the school clinic, and unceremoniously entered the office announcing, "Jean, I have to ask you about something that is troubling me. It is something..." She almost lost her nerve, but managed to continue. "It is something I'm ashamed of."

Jean made no attempt to hide the perplexity on her face. Ororo could tell that a variety of extreme possibilities were flitting around in Jean's head, and so she added. "It's about Sabretooth."

Jean's eye's widened. "What are you ashamed of regarding Sabretooth?" Sensing her friend's severe discomfort, she asked. "Ro, do you want to sit down?"

Ororo didn't answer. She wasn't sure if she wanted to sit. She just wanted the worries to go. When she realized that she was pacing, she shook her head 'no.' "Jean," she started slowly. "When I was on watch, there were times when Sabretooth would talk to me and he seemed, if not normal, then at least that he was trying to have a normal conversation, a _friendly_ conversation." She could tell that Jean was unsure of where she was going with the conversation. "No, it's not just that. It seemed as if he was trying to become my friend. No, 'friend' isn't the right word. It seemed as if he wanted me to _like_ him in some way."

Jean pursed her lips. "He wanted you to like him sexually."

"No," Ororo responded quickly, but then realized that was exactly what it was. "Yes. Yes." She paced back and forth. "Yes, exactly."

"I know," Jean said sympathetically. "That's why we didn't want you to stand watch. But Ro, that isn't something you should be ashamed..."

"That's not all," Ororo interrupted. "The truth is I was attracted him." There. She had said it, not the entire story, but the fundamental shame of it was out, and she waited nervously for her friend's reaction.

To Ororo's surprise, Jean smiled. "Ro, is that all?"

"What do you mean, is that all? Sabretooth is a terrible person. I feel disgusting."

Jean's face turned serious. She contemplated quietly for a few moments before speaking. "I think I understand. We are all aware that Sabretooth has killed and maimed people, and we presume that he has done even worse things we are unaware of. It is honorable that this concerns you." Jean smiled slightly, and came and put her arm around Ororo. "You're a classy lady, Ro." Ororo managed a half-smile. "You're a good person, and you're ashamed that you can feel attraction for a bad person. Is that it?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that he's bad?"

"Yes." Jean raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Well, perhaps I have some doubts about whether or not he is completely bad, but I don't know if my mind is tricking me into seeing something that isn't there."

"Goodness?"

"Yes. I mean when I talk to Logan, he's convinced that Sabretooth is evil through and through, and I wonder, am I deluding myself?"

Jean smiled mysteriously and said, "Well, Logan may have ulterior motives for telling you Sabretooth is evil."

Ororo looked curiously at her friend. "What do you mean?" But Jean just shook her head as if it had been nothing.

"Ororo, I don't think you should feel ashamed. Whether or not Sabretooth has an ounce of goodness in him, your attraction to him was based on believing that he does. And anyway, what does it matter now?" Jean laughed. "It's in the past. If we ever encounter him again, I'm sure he'll be trying to kill us."

Ororo nodded her head good-naturedly, but Jean's words didn't quite bring her the comfort she sought. "Well, I feel somewhat better having gotten that off my chest. I will leave you to your work, Dr. Grey," she said wryly. Then she gave Jean a hug and opened the door to leave, but before exiting she felt compelled to ask one last question. "Jean, do _you_ think Sabretooth is evil?"

Jean's reply came tinged with regret. "I don't know if he's evil, but having seen inside his mind, I do think that he is beyond repair. Way beyond."


	10. Chapter 10

In the months following the escape, things had gone back to normal more quickly than Ororo had anticipated. It was hard to even say that they were worse off than they had been before. Just as always, the team busied themselves trying to protect mutants from crazed non-mutants, and to protect non-mutants from crazed mutants, all the while running a boarding school for high school children. _What a curious life we lead. _

One thing that had changed was Ororo's desire to take breaks from the school campus. They had increased dramatically. Her periodic "walks" in the woods became weekly weekend rituals, sometimes even brief mid-week respites when she couldn't sleep. She had never been a brooder by nature, but found that being away from the school, away from people in general, seemed to be the only thing preventing her from becoming so now.

That morning, she had woken feeling more chipper than at any time since before the incident, and yet contradictorily, as she headed to the forest, she found it was a cloudy, drizzly day. _Well, here's to contradictions, _she thought as she made her way towards one of her favorite trails. It was remote from park entrances and the smattering of designated picnic areas that dotted the major thoroughfares, and thus few people bothered to hike it. Ororo, not limited by walking speed or access roads, loved this quietest of places, and so it was with disappointment that she read the sign blocking the way.

"Lanyard Trail closed for repairs. Use detour." The detour pointed up a steep hill bearing only a vague and overgrown path. She smirked. _I'm getting muddy today._ But it was fun, she decided, perhaps better than usual, scrabbling through the underbrush, occasionally sliding back down a few feet. Before long, she found herself laughing out loud. _Why do I hike on trails at all?_

The mud would cake onto her lower legs and hands when she put them down to support herself, but the light drizzle and wet leaves slapping at her as she crashed through the brush would wash it off again. She felt invigorated.

With a push through a particularly thick assemblage of vines, she found herself in a clearing. In the center was a small cabin. It wasn't dilapidated, but she could tell it received little use. The grass was high around it, and leaves lay thick on the roof and small front porch. A little sign in the window read, "EMERGENCY RANGER STATION 3." She shrugged to herself, and then looked around for the detour signs that were guiding her back to the main trail.

It was then that she saw the hulking shadow of someone just beyond the line of trees. A gasp of surprise escaped her lips. _I guess someone else is hiking the detour trail today._ She waited for the person to emerge into the clearing, thinking to exchange information about trail conditions, but when the individual emerged, she completely lost her breath. It was Sabretooth.

She could have taken to the air immediately, _should_ have taken to the air, but a strange curiousity crept over her. Against her better judgment, she waited for him to draw near, which he did in a few giant strides. _He really is a big man._ He planted himself before her wordlessly, standing like a forest sentinel intent on blocking her path.

"Sabertooth," she breathed.

"Ororo," he replied with mysterious urgency in his eyes. "The name's Victor, remember?"

She supposed she should be afraid, or angry, or ramped for a fight. And in fact, she was all of those things. She contemplated the ways in which she could subdue him long enough to alert either the authorities or Professor X. And yet, almost beside herself, she found herself nodding and asking, "Victor, what are you doing here?"

He stared at her just long enough to make her skin start to crawl. _It was a mistake to stay. I must depart immediately._ As she rallied the winds to carry her off, however, he spoke, the sound of his voice as raw as his eyes were intense. "Ororo, I need to show you something." He began walking toward the cabin. "It's over here." Reaching the door, he immediately disappeared inside.

_This must be Magneto's doing. _ Ororo could think of no logical reason for Magneto to orchestrate a meeting like this with Sabretooth unless he had discovered something that would benefit the Brotherhood, something he needed X-Men help to obtain. She knew that following Sabretooth without backup, without the rest of the team even knowing where she was, was a bad idea. Nevertheless, if Magneto had wanted her dead or captured, he would have acted already, she thought. Saying a quick prayer to the Goddess, she followed Sabretooth inside.

Upon entering the cabin, she saw nothing exceptional. There was a small table and chairs, a cabinet marked with a first-aid cross, a bed, a door that presumably led to a small bathroom, and a wood stove. The wood stove already had a fire burning inside of it. _That's curious._ Turning to question Sabretooth about the purpose of the meeting location, she had time enough to look up at him, before he barreled into her.

She gasped as one massive arm encircled her waist while the other scooped under her buttocks lifting her up. In an instant, he had her to the wall, his body pressed almost crushingly against her. Her arms free, she tried uselessly to push him back at the shoulders. "Victor, what..." And then his mouth was upon hers. In contrast to his arms, which held her in a vice grip, his lips were...gentle. Gentle, but hungry, and insistent.

At first she tried to turn her head away to escape, but his lips pursued hers. When they finally caught them, it was like a burst of electricity coarsing through her body. In fact, she wasn't sure that she hadn't unconsciously drawn down lightning from the sky, until she realized his kisses had continued unabated. She felt herself kissing him back, the sensations amplifying dizzyingly.

It felt so good. Better than anything she had ever felt. But, her mind reminded her, this was Victor Creed. Sabertooth. Her brain fought for control. _He is a killer. He is a sociopath. His life revolves around doing the dirty work of others. You must stop._ With an effort like Atlas lifting the world, she managed to pull her lips away, finally catching her breath. "Victor, I don't..." He moved back in to swallow her words. "Victor..." Her arms were ineffectual against him, so she began to twist, hoping to slide her knee up against his chest in order to gain some leverage. They struggled for a moment but instead of Ororo breaking free, Sabretooth managed to force his knee between her legs, and now had his groin pinned against hers. He had also grabbed her wrists with one of his hands and clamped them to the wall abover her head.

"Victor, I'll bring lightning down. You know I will."

"Ororo," he said steadily. "This cabin has several high capacity lightning rods. I know. I installed them myself."

Ororo swallowed. _How long has he been planning this? And what __**exactly**__ is he planning?_ She hated to show fear, but she couldn't control the shiver that ran through her. Sabretooth felt it, too, and his eyes glittered. "It doesn't matter, Victor. I can make it exceedingly cold in here. I can..."

"It doesn't matter what you do. I'm not letting go of you." He grinned unsettlingly. "Go ahead. Try something." His grin dropped away and he leaned down again to kiss her. It was as soft as a ripe plum, and Ororo shivered again. He pulled back to say something but seemed suddenly to falter. "I..." He looked at her with his painful intensity. "I nee...." Stopping, he grimaced as if trying to swallow a bitter pill. Finally, he clenched his jaws and growled between his teeth. "I will have you." And once again his lips were upon her. This time, he ground his hips slowly against her, and Ororo found herself releasing a low moan.

Sabretooth's response to Ororo's moan was a rumbling growl that emitted from deep within his chest. The vibrations of his chest, the slow grind of his hips, and the penetration of his tongue into her mouth were almost too much for her to bear. She felt herself swoon, and found herself gripping his restraining hand with her own, holding on for dear life.


	11. Chapter 11

She had no idea how long they stayed at the wall, kissing, and clinging to each other, but eventually, Sabretooth pulled away slightly. On his face was a look of unabashed lust. She could see that now. It wasn't a homocidal urge she had seen so many times before, but desire. Ororo couldn't imagine what expression she wore herself, so overwhelmed she was by the feelings enveloping her.

"Let's move this party over a few feet." He lifted her off the wall, and tranferred her to the edge of the bed. He squatted down to take his shoes off. Mimicking him, Ororo leaned over to do likewise only to be stopped by his hand. "I'll do that. Just give me a minute." Ororo stared at him in awe. Sabretooth's hands carefully untied her laces, and slid off her shoes and socks. Then, tipping forward onto his knees, he ran his hands up the sides of her legs up to the clasp on her shorts.

Suddenly, she felt self-conscious. "Victor, I'm muddy."

His eyes scrolled down her length. "You're not that muddy."

"Well, I'm also sweaty from having hiked around all morning."

He looked up at her with a predatory smile. "You say that as if it's a bad thing." Her groin stirred, and she felt light-headed. But she held her ground. "Let me just wash up really quickly." She glanced over to the bathroom door and gave him a shy smile.

"No," he refused, and returned to unfastening her shorts.

"Please, Victor. We'll get dirt all over the sheets." He gave her a look that said, "Why would I give a shit about that," but he seemed to sense her discomfort, and yielded slightly.

"You can go rinse off the mud." He pulled her up but gripped her ass with both hands. "Don't keep me waiting."

Slipping into the bathroom, Ororo paused to take some deep breaths. Never would she have guessed that she would be in this position with Victor Creed. Sabretooth. She couldn't wrap her mind around it, any of it, not her feelings, and not his behavior. It almost seemed that he...cared. _But that can't be._

"I don't hear any water." Sabretooth's booming voice rattled the door.

"Just a minute!" Ororo shook her thoughts out of her head. She wasn't going to figure this out now, not standing in the little cabin bathroom. There was a toilet, a sink, and steel tub. From the looks of things, there was only cold water available. She turned the faucet, stripped quickly, and steeled herself for the shock of the water. It was cold. She scrubbed off any spots of dried mud she could find, and then reconsidering, began washing herself more thoroughly. Grabbing a cracked bar of industrial-style soap that had been left at the sink, she started washing her face, her neck, feet, under her arms, between her legs. Although she was moving quickly, she heard footsteps toward the door.

She dropped the soap and grabbed the only towel, clutching it in front of her just as he opened the door. He looked down at the soap abandoned at the bottom of the tub, and gave her a frown. "You're done," he said, and then moved toward her, lifting her with ease out of the bath. He leaned down and, apparently smelling the industrial soap, jerked his head up in distaste. "Now, why'd you have to go and do that for?" Ororo opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He grunted and then swept her up in his arms and carried her back into the main room.

He didn't put her down once they reached the bed, choosing instead to examine her from up close. Ororo felt his gaze like a weight pressing against her. His tongue darted out, licking his lips. The grip of his hands increased until she began to feel his claws dig into her flesh and she took in her breath sharply in anticipation of the cuts. He stopped, hearing the sound of her breath, and relaxing his grip, put her down carefully.

Standing her at the foot of the bed, he looked away briefly as if to regain his composure. She stood there nervously clutching her towel, shivering as a draft blew across her wet skin. The involuntary movement drew Sabretooth's attention, and when he looked back, his eyes fixed lustily on the towel Ororo held before her. In a blink, he tore the towel away from her, and seeing Ororo's naked form before him, let out a growling moan as his eyes rolled back in his head. It only lasted for an instant, though. She hardly had time to feel self-conscious before he was upon her, pushing her down to the bed. His mass was tremendous, filling her field of view. He pressed himself down onto to her, his knee slipping back between her legs and his tongue into her mouth. For a few luxurious minutes, they recreated their earlier entanglement in a new horizontal position.

But then as if remembering Ororo's naked form beneath him, Sabretooth abandoned her mouth and shifted slightly to his left side to give himself a better view. Supporting himself on his left elbow, he held her wrists above her head with his left hand and surveyed her body as if she were a feast and he the king deciding what first to eat. Ororo trembled with anticipation and looked up at him bashfully. He stared her down unflinchingly, and reached out with his right hand to caress her body. Where the tips of his fingers went, the tips of his claws followed. Soft and hard trailed in pairs across her skin.

She was exposed and vulnerable, dominated and restrained, and yet paradoxically she felt protected, liberated. Powerful emotions swelled in her chest, and she felt a lump harden in her throat. _What is happening to me? I...I need him. _Sensing the pricks of forming tears, she closed her eyes, not wanting him to see.

Awash as she was in sensation and feeling, she barely heard him gasp, but such an unexpected sound coming from Sabretooth popped her eyes back open. He was staring in amazement at her abdomen. Where his fingers met her skin, strange glowing wisps had accumulated.

"What is that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

She looked up in at the man who had triggered such a reaction in her. "It's St. Elmo's fire." When he gave her a quizzical look, she smiled gently and said, "I won't go into the physics of it, but it occurs in highly charged atmospheres." A shadow of a smile graced his lips. "And it's very, very special."

His fingers continued to trace patterns around her stomach, patterns now illuminated by a blue electrical light. He moved up to her breasts and almost smiled again when he saw the glow remain on her nipples even as he slid his fingers away. "So," he began tentatively, "does this usually happen to you? When you're with men, I mean." He was looking away from her face preventing her from reading his expression, not that he was easily read even when in full view. "No," she answered softly, tilting her chin up to kiss a cheek that she couldn't quite reach, her breath just grazing his skin. The sensation turned his head, and a trace of uncertaintly revealed itself in his features. She smiled again and said, "It has _never_ happened before."

The words seemed to catch him off guard, and he stared at her meaningfully as if again trying to determine the truth, and she stared back, hoping that he saw it. Then the uncertainty disappeared and he was kissing her again, his right hand first cupping her cheek, then sliding progressively downward. She felt his hand glide across her breasts, her abdomen, down over her mound, finally slipping between her thighs. She moaned as he pushed her legs further apart and ran his claws lightly up and down their length, and then slide over the outer lips of her vulva.

She felt him separating her lips and begin to slip his fingers in when she tensed and sucked in her breath harshly. He pulled back and frowned questioningly. "Your claws," she whispered. "You'll cut me."

His face softened. "I won't cut you." He held up his clawed hand so she could see he had retracted them to small nubs. "Trust me?"

A few hours prior, it would have been an absurd request for him to make to her, but now Ororo found herself nodding willingly. His hand found its way back between her legs, and two thick fingers found their way inside of her. The hard nubs rubbed and pressed into her walls, somehow finding her network of nerve endings like a needle riding the groove of a record. "Oh, Goddess. Oh, Goddess, Victor." He withdrew the fingers, and slid the hard calluses of the ball of his hand across her clit. He then repeated, sliding his fingers back inside of her.

It was an explosion. She had never seen stars before her eyes, but flashes of light now confused her vision. She forgot to kiss him. She simply lolled her head back as waves of pleasure broke over her. Her juices flowed freely, running down to the sheets below her. Her tears flowed freely, too, creating glinting rivers out of the corners of her eyes. She hadn't wanted him to see, hadn't wanted to expose herself that much, but she had lost all control. A tumult of emotions raged inside of her. _I want him. This can never work. I want him. He can't possibly care about me. I want him. Oh, Goddess, his hands. _ Then all coherent thought departed, leaving her in the tempest of her ecstasy.


	12. Chapter 12

ch 12

After the spasms of pleasure subsided and her last gasps died on her lips, Ororo opened her eyes to find Sabretooth observing her quietly, the subtle signs of insecurity he may have shown earlier having fallen away with the vestiges of her self-control. "So you liked that." The statement was made under his breath, as if a note to himself for future reference. When she didn't answer, he proceeded to withdraw his fingers from her and languidly lick at them before looking back at the quivering area between her legs and casually dragging his claws across it once again. He hummed an appreciative 'mmmm' and she thought that he might continue his previous attentions, but as she looked to him with glazed, watery eyes, her vulva swollen and throbbing, he withdrew completely from her and stood up at the foot of the bed.

Suddenly, she felt weak and unprotected and sat up, gazing at him imploringly. "Victor?" An image of him walking out the door fluttered anxiously in her mind. _Is he leaving me like this?_ Then she saw his eyes, blacker than she ever thought possible, and his fingers, moving to peel off his shirt. His torso was perfect and a little spasm of desire tensed inside of her. He noticed her ogle and paused briefly to give her a good look before slowly unbuttoning his pants. For a moment, she thought she was back in a dream, her head dizzy watching the almost casual way he flipped each button open. Click. A glimpse of his lower abdomen. Click. A little trail of hair. Click. The top of his briefs.

But then her dream was interrupted by a sound, an irritating revving from outside the cabin.

Her head involuntarily turned toward one of the windows as she tried to discern the origin of the noise. "It's nothing," Sabretooth said gruffly, trying to draw her attention back to him, but as the noise grew louder, he walked over to the window to investigate. "Damn it!" he hissed.

"What is it?" Ororo asked.

He didn't answer her question, but buttoned his pants back up and opened the door to the cabin. "Stay here," he commanded, and closed the door behind him.

Ororo drew the single wool blanket that covered the bed up around her shoulders, and contemplated the little room she had been taken so surreptitiously in. The wood stove gave off a cozy heat while misty grey light spilled sleepily onto the rough-hewn floor. It was impossible to ignore how romantic the scene was and she paused to wonder at the man who had coordinated it all. The more she thought of it, the more she realized he must have been tracking her for months, recording her habits with miltary precision, anticipating her reactions, investigating her weaknesses. It was frightening and yet she couldn't help but feel moved. _All of this planning, just for the chance to be with me._ It made her feel like settling into a warm bed, _this bed_, with a warm body, _his body_, surrounding her. She hoped his appearance outside would shoo away the kids or yokels who were illegally riding their four-wheelers through the woods and he would hurry back to bed, with her.

But as she sat waiting for Sabretooth to return, it occurred to her that there was one group of people authorized to take motorized vehicles off the paved roads of the park: the park rangers themselves, and it seemed likely that if the people approaching were rangers, they were coming specifically to use the cabin she and Sabretooth were now occupying. The thought of Sabretooth's reaction to a few unsuspecting park officials got her up out of the bed. _I had better make sure he doesn't do something foolish._ It was not without regret that she redressed.

A shout from outside interrupted her thoughts. She looked out the window to find a small group of men surrounding him. Three dirt bikes and a three-wheeler were parked off to one side of the clearing, the three-wheeler loaded with a large metal box. A worse thought occurred to her. What if instead of park officials, these men were law enforcement who had somehow tracked Sabretooth down? How on Earth would she explain her presence? She brought a hand to her forehead, trying to forstall a panic and focus her thoughts on a plausible explanation.

She looked out the window again to re-evaluate the men before she walked outside with excuses on her tongue, when suddenly the men were gone. Ororo blinked. For a brief second, she wondered if she had been seeing things when Sabretooth's head snapped violently to the right. He grunted and swung back with his claws fully extended. A spray of blood spattered his side as his claws ripped through something unseen. _They're invisible - They're mutants._ That unexpected turn of events gave her pause before she decided that it did not change the underlying possibilities. Mutants or not, they seemed to have been sent to apprehend Sabretooth. After all, there was no reason a mutant could not be a police officer or an FBI agent, or an official of any number of organizations and governments in the world who might know about him and want him safely behind reinforced bars.

Sabretooth was too formidable opponent to likely be taken down by these four, invisible or not, but she didn't want him to be unnecessarily hurt, and so she did what she could do help him: she made it rain. It only took a few minutes to gather heavy low-lying clouds above the combatants, but it seemed like forever. In the the intervening time, the group managed to get in a few nasty blows to his back and both of his knees. They also learned that he was amazingly fast for his size, and seemed to be trying to come at him from behind. Once the rain began to fall, however, the tell tale curve of water droplets around their forms was all that Sabretooth needed.

He grabbed one of them, preparing to slice him open, when Ororo stepped out onto the porch. "Victor!" she shouted.

Without turning or modifying his stance in the slightest, he responded, "I told you to stay inside."

"Don't kill him." The Ororo he had seduced into submission had been left inside. This Ororo was was not to be denied.

Sabretooth grunted angrily, but instead of cutting the man open, he pounded the area that was presumably the man's face and suddenly, all four men were fully visible. _So only one of them had power over invisibility._ That man was hanging by the shoulder, unconscious from Sabretooth's hand. The three other smugglers made a break for the dirt bikes only to be knocked down by a powerful gust of wind. "Not so fast, gentlemen," Ororo intoned as she glided off the porch toward them.

The controlled gust carried her down steps and just over the top of the grass, but before she was close enough to accost them, she felt Sabretooth's hand on her shoulder. _Goddess, he moves stealthily._ "You know," he said seriously, "if you let them go, we'll only have to kill one of them."

The statement was coldly callous, but also in a twisted way earnest. His eyes, though cold, regarded her expectantly. _Does he honestly believe I would appreciate that suggestion? _She looked at him pointedly, daring him to go against her. "We're not killing any of them," she said, her own voice low and threatening. "Now tell me. Why did they attack you? Or did you provoke them?" Something in her scolding tone clouded his face and triggered a contemptuous snort. "I told them to go store their smack somewhere else."

It took her a moment to process what he said. _Smack?_ But then it clicked, and she looked with amazement at the container on the back of the three-wheeler. "There's heroin in there? They told you that?"

"I already knew," he said dropping the unconscious man unceremoniously on the ground and crossing his arms. Receiving another pointed stare from Ororo, he continued. "I discovered their little operation when I was scoping out this place. They use this cabin for storage until the drugs can be taken into Canada." He smirked. "I'm not the only one who realized no one comes out here. They must have had a last minute change of plans 'cause they're not supposed to be here today."

Ororo supposed she should be happy about interrupting a drug drop, but she felt a resigned disappointment. Just a short while earlier, she had been at the height of ecstasy, and now she was looking at hours of waiting and giving statements to law enforcement. Sighing, she said, "We have to hold these men until the police can arrive."

"Like hell we do."

In a blink, she was swept up and being carried back to the cabin. "Victor!" she shouted. She could strike him with lightning but she didn't want to hurt him. "Victor, I don't care what you do, but I'm not letting them drive away with a crate of heroin!" When he continued walking, she pounded on his chest a few times. "Victor!" He took a few more steps before slowing to a stop. "I will fight you on this."

For a few moments, he simply glared at her. There was something in the glare, though, that almost made her want to smile; an adolescent frustration that peeked from behind the intimidation. She found it hard to glare back, taken again with a feeling of awe at seeing something besides his brute facade. But she was serious about what she had said, and glare back she did until he reluctantly put her back down.

A growl through gritted teeth, and then a sigh. "For christsakes, hold on." Leaving her by the cabin, he turned back toward the smugglers and in a few giant strides closed the distance between them. The three conscious but terrified men had taken the opportunity jump on the bikes, yet their shaking hands fumbled to start the engines. As Sabretooth reached the three-wheeler, its rider jumped away and stared in shock as a single heave by the blond beast ripped the metal box from its bindings.

Tearing the lid off the box, Sabretooth surveyed the contents. With a low whistle, he said, "What is that? $20-30 million worth?" He shook his head. "Someone in Canada's gonna be real sad about what I'm about to do." Picking up one of the bikes, he punched a hole in the side of the gas tank and poured the contents into the open case. He stepped back and looked over to Ororo standing on the porch.

"A little lightning?"

Ororo smiled at him, happy to oblige. A single thick strand of electricity snaked down from the sky setting the box aflame. Despite himself, he gave her an appreciative nod. And despite herself, she felt a thrill run through her at his subtle acknowledgment. It was unbelievable but for a fleeting moment, she felt like they were a team.

By then, one of the men had managed to get his bike started and a second man had jumped on the back as it tore out of the clearing and into the woods. Sabretooth grabbed the one remaining man whose shaking was so profound, he had dropped his keys on the ground. "Now don't forget your half dead friend, there," Sabretooth warned. "Go ahead. Pick him up and get the hell out of here." He pulled the man's face closer, "And you and your buddies, don't ever come back or I'll find you when the nice lady isn't around to protect you, and then I'll tear your hearts out with my bare hands."

The man made his way quiveringly toward his unconscious partner, and dragged him to the three-wheeler. Sabretooth, apparently not wanting to waste any time getting back to their previous activities, practically bounded back to Ororo and lifted her by the waist so her face met his. "No more interruptions," he breathed, his gaze boring into her so intensely, she couldn't help but feel the swell of her earlier emotions rising to smother her. In a show of dominance, he gave her a little shake, punctuating his command and insisting on assent. Despite his rough grip around her soft sides, though, and the lust in his voice, she could have sworn that there was a lightness to him.

Overcome with a sudden shyness about the desire that was broadcast on her face, she turned her head away. She was about to give him a coy reply when out of the corner of her eye she saw the three-wheeler drive off into the woods...without the unconscious man aboard.


	13. Chapter 13

"He left his friend!" she gasped.

Sabretooth turned to see the last man, the mutant, lying abandoned in the grass. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. Turning back to her, he said, "Forget him. When he wakes up, he'll take off just like the others."

Ororo stared at him in disbelief. "I can't...relax knowing there's an unconscious man lying outside the cabin!"

"Look." Sabretooth paused gritting his teeth. "I'll just carry him down to one of the trails. Someone will find him."

Ororo wriggled until he set her down. "No, if that man hasn't woken up yet, it probably means he has a severe concussion, or worse. I'll take him to the visitor's center where someone can help him immediately." As she gathered gentle winds to lift the man from the ground carefully, she felt Sabretooth's hand grip her arm.

"You're not going."

"Excuse me?"

"I didn't wait...I didn't... do all this just so you could babysit some little punk." Sabretooth's voice lowered. "Is this your excuse to try to escape?"

_Why did he use the word 'escape?'_ Ororo steeled herself. She could feel the energy shift between them. He had regained his typical menacing stance and his face had fixed in an icy mask. _Why are we suddenly ready to fight each other?_ She forced herself to take a few deep breaths."Victor," she said softly. "I will come right back. I just want to be completely sure that someone finds him. I want to see it with my own eyes. I don't even have to be seen by anyone. I'll lower him before the entrance of the building and I'll return." She reached up to touch his face. "I _want _to come back."

Sabretooth's grip did not waver in the slightest, and he wore a look of cynicism and contempt so deep it appeared to have been carved into his face. It was almost painful to look at. _How did you become like this?_

Ororo looked at the man lying in a crumpled heap in the grass and wondered who he was. Maybe he was some fool who had made terrible choices. Maybe was brutal monster. Maybe he had been taken advantage of because of his special talent. It didn't really matter. She did not want this man to die slowly on the wet ground while she lay a few yards away with his killer. But if Sabretooth failed to understand the perversion of what he was expecting of her, how could she possibly explain it?

"Victor," she said firmly but gently. "You can believe me or not, but I will come back here as soon as I am sure someone has found this man and is getting him help. I'm sorry you don't understand why I have to do this, but it is part of who I am, and you cannot stop me."

His brows bent into a deep scowl, and after a minute of tense silence, he flung her arm away. "Fine. Go." He walked to the end of the porch and stared into the woods, ignoring her gentle good-byes as she carried the injured man up and just over the tops of the trees.

*

It was harder than she thought it would be floating an unconscious man. On the infrequent occasions that she carried another person on the wind, the person was able to control his muscles and reactions to the ever changing eddies of air beneath them, rather like a sky diver. But this man could do none of that and flopped and bounced on the currents she was trying so hard to keep delicate.

As the depression in trees that marked the large clearing for visitor parking emerged, she heard a groaning to her right. Apparently bouncing over the forest's surface had jarred the man awake. She sped up the pace and was just approaching the edge of the lot when she heard the man gasp slightly and throw up. _I hope there wasn't anyone down there._ Wanting to remain hidden, she latched herself to the upper branches of one of the pines and proceeded to lower the man into the visitor lot. Then, she listened hoping to hear a rallying cry of help, but heard nothing. She needed to be closer.

Lowering herself to the ground, she circled the clearing and entered from the opposite side of the lot. There she remained, watching and waiting. After a few minutes passed, a couple who were unloading mountain bikes from their car heard the groaning from the edge of the lot and walked over to investigate. Ororo breathed a sigh of relief to see them bend down to attend to the man who was now trying to sit up. Another round of vomiting dropped him back onto his side, and she saw the woman running into the visitor center for help.

Having seen the smuggler taken care of, she felt rushing weakness of her knees, a limberness of her muscles, and leaned against a tree for support. Unexpectedly, she found herself giggling weakly. All of wildness and insanity of the afternoon was at least temporarily at bay and the moment of quiet left her giddy. She needed to release some of the nervous energy that had built up, and so she allowed herself to laugh, her weak chuckles building to hearty guffaws. The whole afternoon had been so absurd, so crazy and unbelievable. Wondering if the cyclist couple could hear her from the other side of the parking lot for some reason made her laugh harder. Her laughs rose to off-kilter hysterics before gradually tapering off to silence. She leaned back against the tree with her hand against her forehead. _What am I going to do?_

The thought of Sabretooth waiting, possibly, back at the cabin sent a wave of desire over her. Yet at the same time, having the distance from him made it easier to think clearly. What she was doing was ridiculous. It was crazy. Truly. Her stomach felt heavy as she wondered what must be wrong with her that she could want something like this. Was she one of those people who because of some trauma in her life ended up making reckless, stupid decisions? She thought about her dead parents, but shook her head, refusing to believe that was the cause. _What __**is**__ wrong with me?_ Regardless of her confusion, though, she had given her word that she would return. Now that she had had time to reconsider, she knew she couldn't go through with...well...it. But she wanted to tell him to his face. Maybe it was just to prove him wrong, but she wanted him to know she was a woman of her word.

The late afternoon sun casting long shadows in the parking lot reminded her of the time she would normally be returning to the mansion. She spotted a pay phone and in an impulsive burst of responsibility, decided to call home. Miraculously, she had some change in her wallet.

Dialing the numbers, she wondered what she would say to Jean or Professor Xavier if they answered. Would they be able to sense something wrong from her voice?

"Hello, School for Gifted Youngsters," a sweet twang greeted from the other line.

"Anna Marie?"

"Ororo, where are you calling from? I don't recognize this number." Because of her drawl, Anna Marie pronounced Ororo's name as 'Aurora,' but Ororo didn't mind. Coming from Anna Marie, it charming.

"I'm calling from a pay phone in the park."

"You're still there? You sure like to hike a lot. You know, if you ever get lonely, I'd be happy to go with you." Hearing Anna Marie's youthful innocence was a welcome respite to the events of the afternoon and Ororo felt a little tightening in her chest. Perhaps, she would have to bring Anna Marie with her sometime. She might even enjoy a little birds-eye view. But then the thought of running into Sabretooth suddenly emerged in her mind, and she began to feel uneasy. Her own interaction with him was one thing, but she didn't need to expose Anna Marie to it.

Anna Marie took the brooding silence to mean disinterest. "Well, I guess that's silly," Anna Marie said quickly. "You wouldn't want me hiking with you."

Snapping out of her contemplation, Ororo regained her footing. "No, of course we should go hiking together sometime! I was just considering if this is the best place to take you. Maybe we could go to the Adirondacks. What do you think? Or we could even go farther north and do a fly-by of Niagara Falls."

"Really?" Anna Marie asked excitedly, and Ororo knew she'd have to make it happen.

"Sure."

"Hey, do you think Logan could come?"

Ororo laughed, imagining his response to the suggestion that they go floating around above the Niagara river. "Why don't you ask Logan first? I'm not sure he'd be interested."

"Hey, he's right here. Do you want to talk to him?" Before Ororo could respond, she heard Logan's gruff 'hello' from the other end.

Ororo hadn't planned exactly what she was going to say, only that she knew she was going to have to lie. Not that lying to any of them was easy, but she felt especially bad lying to Logan, especially about this. "Hello Logan."

"Well, hello there. You gonna grace us with your presence anytime soon? You know, if you're on your way back, I wouldn't mind a 6-pack of Schlitz."

She couldn't help but smile. "First of all, I would never buy Schlitz. Second, I will not be back soon. I ran into a friend..."

"While hiking?" Logan asked surprised.

"Well, yes. And I think we're going to go find somewhere to...talk and relax for a while."

"Talk and relax, huh? Who is this guy?"

"Who said it was a 'guy'?" Ororo asked innocently. Logan cleared his throat impatiently. "All right. You're right. It is a man...so don't wait up."

Logan was silent on his end.

"Logan?"

"Sorry 'Ro. You just...surprised me. I didn't realized that you ever played that way."

He sounded vaguely accusatory, but she let it slide. "Remember our talk a few months ago? About men being intimidated by me?"

"Yeah," Logan said slowly.

"Well, this one is not."

Logan was silent for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was quiet. "I didn't realize that was all you were looking for."

"Logan," Ororo said sternly.

"No offense." He fell silent again after that.

Ororo regretted not putting more thought into her story before calling but realized it was too late to reconsider. "Okay, well..." she began, motioning that the end the call was near.

"It's just," Logan said interrupting, "I don't want anything bad happenin' to you. Where are you going with this guy?"

"Logan, thank you for your concern, but I'm a big girl." Her words were more curt than she had intended, but she didn't apologize. Being short was the only way she could think of to handle the situation. She didn't want to go into details because that would just mean more detailed lying, but she also didn't want him to feel she was shutting him out.

"It's been a long time for me, Logan." She heard him sigh on the other end of the line, and immediately wished she could tell him everything. She wanted to tell Logan that she didn't think she was going to go through with it, that she had decided it didn't make any sense, that she was just going to talk to Sabretooth and make him understand that surely there were other women more suited to him. But of course, she held her tongue.

She could almost sense him nodding his head on the other end of the line. "Be careful."

"I will," she lied.

"'Ro, before I forget, the Professor put the word out that classes may be disrupted this week. We may have to go out on a mission."

"Yes?"

"It seems the Brotherhood, or possibly a more radical off-shoot of the Brotherhood, may be planning something. We just learned of a pattern of attacks along the East Coast."

"What kind of attacks?"

"Seemingly random killings. All humans. The police haven't connected them, but the Professor says he has some intelligence that they're related. I don't know the details, but I'm sure we'll have a brief on it soon."

"Well, why couldn't it be a serial killer? Why does he think it's the Brotherhood?"

"He does think it's a serial killer. Most of the early victims had their throats slashed...by claws. It's the Brotherhood's #1 serial killer, darlin'. It's Sabretooth."


	14. Chapter 14

Before the call, she had known that she needed to talk to Sabretooth, needed to pull back and feel that she wasn't completely insane, and she had known it would be difficult. In fact, part of her had hoped that he would persuade her from walking away. But after Logan's bombshell, she knew there would be no persuasion, and her heart was heavy.

As she alighted on the porch, she found him standing in the same place and position she had left him. "Victor?"

Though he kept his eyes impassive, it was impossible not to notice the swell of his chest as he turned to view her. He approached her quickly, reaching his arms out to grab her when she stopped him, placing her hands on his forearms to prevent him from lifting her up. "Victor, I need to talk to you."

"About?" he asked, his tone wary.

"Why don't we go inside for a moment. It's getting dark."

"For a moment?" he said, understanding and agitation dancing in his eyes.

Sabretooth followed her into the cabin closing the door firmly behind him. Earlier she might have been nervous, but she had seen that there was something else to him besides bloodlust, and now she just wanted to talk to him, like two human beings. _One of whom has been killing people up and down the Eastern Seaboard. _She shook the thought out of her mind. _Stay positive, Ororo. Make him understand._

"Victor," she started, turning toward him. The cabin looked so cozy in the evening light, and he, even with his edge, looked inviting; she felt a swell of longing. "What would you have done if those men had just been park rangers? Would you have still tried to kill them?" Sabretooth leveled a chilling look at her but didn't answer. Ororo felt her blood pressure rise at what she felt was his silent assent. "What if they had been hikers? Teenagers? Would you have wanted to kill them, just to avoid being interrupted?"

His face had become a mask again, terrifyingly in its coldness. "What do _you_ think?"

Ororo's mouth and lips felt suddenly dry as she tried answer. "I called home after I got the man help..."

"But of course you did," he said scornfully.

"I was told that someone has been killing people along the East Coast, slicing their throats with...his claws." She almost lost her will to continue speaking of it. It was so disheartening. She looked away, a pained expression on her face.

"You think it's me."

"Is it?"

He paused before answering. "Who told you?"

"What does it matter who told me?" she snapped, turning back to him.

He smiled cruelly at no one in particular. "The Runt. I should have known you'd talk to him. He wants to fuck you, you know."

"What?!" Ororo gaped in shock and anger. "What Logan does or does not want is not the issue here. Did. you. kill. those. people?"

"No," he said staring her dead in the eyes.

It wasn't the answer she was expecting and for a moment she was at a loss for words. "You didn't?" she responded lamely.

He sneered. "Is that so hard to believe? That I'm not the only one who kills people in the world?"

"I don't know." She grew silent. Did it change things? He hadn't killed these people, but there had been many others. He had been willing to kill today and willing to have sex while someone lay injured just outside the door. "What about my earlier question? You didn't answer it. Would you have been willing to kill those men if they had just been hikers?"

Sabretooth took a step toward her. "What if I said 'yes'?"

She shook her head. _What kind of answer is that?_ Whatever she was thinking before, whatever had let her give in to him, she had to shake it off. "I'm sorry. I can't do this. I came back because I wanted to tell you to your face. I want you to understand why I can't go through with this." She needed to explain to him but she was having trouble thinking. Her stomache began to roil with disgust and desire; it was such a filthy combination. Even now she had to turn her head slightly to avoid seeing his glorious form in the evening light. She needed to move. In her nervousness, she started pacing but his body was blocking her way. As she tried to walk past him, he hooked her waist and tossed her back.

Another step closer. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Hey!," she exclaimed in reaction. She swallowed slightly, realizing that he was now bearing down on her.

"Victor, I thought I could do this but..." She groped for words, but failing to find any that would express her tumult, she fell back on formality. "I disapprove of what you do." He reached forward and grabbed the collar of her shirt in his fist. "Victor..." With barely a flick of his wrist, he ripped the front of her shirt off sharp, the force of the jerk propelling her forward, into his chest. "Victor!" she cried in shock, finally looking him in the eye.

His face was twisted into a snarl. "You disapprove of what I do, huh?" She tried to scramble back but he grabbed her wrists and proceeded to rip and tear the rest of her shirt and bra violently from her body.

"Victor, stop!" she shouted but he pushed her onto the bed, crushing her wrists into the mattress above her head. She stared at him in shock and shivered as she encountered nothing but a wall of rage. _Oh Goddess, Jean was right._ His right hand reached down to rend her shorts into strips. In an instant she was bare, her clothing nothing more than confetti strewn from the bed. "Victor, no! Please!"

She felt her eyes go white and heard the sky split as an astonishing bolt of lightning struck the cabin. A brilliant white flashed into the windows like a momentary floodlight and an electric hiss died in the distance, but true to Sabretooth's word, the cabin itself was untouched.

Sabretooth seemed to be straining against a crazed energy, his eyes drifting toward frenzy. "Now, I've played real nice up to now." His voice was hard and tight. "_Real_ nice." He forced his knees between her legs and pushed them open. Another stunning bolt of lighting engulfed the cabin while the accompanying thunder rattled the windows jarringly. Outside, the trees began to sway as the wind picked up, and inside the temperature began to drop, but all of this only seemed to hasten Sabretooth on.

He reached down and started unbuttoning his pants. "It's time for you to give me what I want."

Ororo strained to make it colder, the winds already battering the walls at howling speeds, but she realized something was holding her back. She was crying. _Stop crying and concentrate._ She furrowed her brow trying to focus on her anger and hatred for Sabretooth, tried to focus on the image of his blood freezing in his veins, but a dull ache in her heart stood in the way. It was regret. As hard as she tried to hate him, tried to kill him with cold, the sorrow that he wasn't what she had hoped kept getting in the way. "I didn't think you would hurt me."

It wasn't until Sabretooth stopped that she realized she had spoken aloud.

His eyes were still crazed, but there was also something she never thought she would see in him: guilt. "Ororo," he croaked through rasping breaths. "Ororo." He seemed to be fighting to control his body. For a moment he seemed to slip back, squeezing her wrists tighter, salivating as he looked down on her body, but then he pulled back, literally, lifting his face toward the ceiling to escape the temptation below. "I didn't...I wanted..." Jerkily, he looked back at her for help finishing his words.

Ororo herself barely felt able to speak. Dizzy from exertion and jittery from the adrenaline coarsing through her, she remained in a dazed silence for a moment. "You wanted..." she managed to whisper.

His brows furrowed so deeply that she might have thought he was glaring at her in anger if not for the quaver in his voice. "I wanted...you to want me."

She tried to suppress the sympathetic surge in her chest - _Why did he have to say that?_ - but felt her eyes fading back to normal, and worse, felt her mouth begin to speak. "You hurt me." Sabretooth released her wrists but did not withdraw from her, planting his hands on either side of her shoulders. His knees were still lodged between her legs and he still trembled with barely controlled lust. "What do you say to that?" she prompted.

His jaw moved but no words emerged. She nodded her head encouragingly. "I'm...sorry," he choked out. She drew down her arms to look at them and noticed bruises starting to form. She held up one of her wrists for him to see.

"You did this. It hurt me."

The apology came more easily this time. "I'm sorry, Ororo."

Then she swallowed and found herself saying something she knew she shouldn't. "Maybe you should kiss it to make it feel better." _Ororo, what are you doing?_

His eyes flashed and he took her wrist gently in his left hand. "Yes," he rasped, and tilted his head down to graze his lips over her skin. He returned her wrist and took her other to kiss it. He then scanned her body ravenously, looking for another opportunity for an apology. Finding none, he leaned in to kiss her mouth, but Ororo held up her palm.

"No." In truth, as wrong as it was, she did not want him to stop. But for her own sanity, she needed to know if he would.

He did. But he looked at her with such aching need, it felt like his lips were all over her, her own ache growing between her legs. With ragged breaths, he began to draw himself off of her when she placed her hand on his cheek. _Mixed signals. Stop it. _ She couldn't stop it, though. She couldn't seem to do anything that made sense. He began to rub his head and face into her hand, desperate to feel her touch.

"Please," he begged. She felt her body begin to quiver as the rise and fall of his chest quickened. "Please. Please, Ororo." Her hand slid down the ripples of his torso to his fly, where it felt his bulge pulse beneath the fabric. Even after she had unbuttoned his pants, however, he stayed, eyes heavy-lidded, waiting for her permission. "Please, Ororo..." His eyes implored her.

She looked at the beast of a man pleading for her between her knees and answered, "Yes."


	15. Consummation

**A/N:** I am sorry I've been so delayed in updating. Life has gotten so busy and exhausting. I'm sure many of you can relate.

**THANK YOU** to the kind people who have reviewed. I'm sorry for not giving complete recognition at the moment, but I wanted to hurry up and get this posted. Just know that you folks who have sent me support to keep going are **greatly** appreciated. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!

And thank you to whoever is taking time to read this story. Maybe one of you can write the next **Stormtooth** worship fic! (I just invented that abbreviation. Like it?)

.

* * *

.

He wasted little time. Although he crushed himself to her the moment she gave her assent, covering her mouth with his own in delicious gratitude, he quickly pulled away again, removing her shoes and socks gingerly. His pants already unbuttoned, he pushed them with a single motion to the ground where he could step out of them.

Ororo's gasp gave him pause.

Her heart skipped at the sight of his erection extending heavily downward like a sword at parade rest and her legs closed involuntarily, protectively, like an oyster shell guarding its pearl. "Uh, uh," he rasped. "Open those thighs back up." She complied obediently, and saw his cock twitch in response. "Don't worry," he growled hoarsely, "I'll be...gentle." He pushed her softly back to the bed, and placed his hands on the inside of her thighs, pushing them outward while lowering his face toward her mound.

Inhaling deeply, a low vibration emanated from his chest. The vibration grew to a profound rumble as his tongue began circling her wet center. But just as Ororo thought he might dive into her from there, he raised his head, and slid his body on top of hers. As he pressed himself to her, she sighed with pleasure at the feeling of his skin against hers.

He took her wrists in his hands automatically, but this time she twisted slightly against her bondage. "Victor," she breathed. "Let me touch you." The widening of his eyes was almost imperceptible, as was the stilling of his body as he released her. Bringing her hands down to cup his face, she tilted it down, caressing it with her lips, running along his cheekbone, then brow, down his nose, and back to his mouth. There she stopped, her mouth few millimeters from his, inhaling from him, exhaling back.

Sabretooth stilled completely, as if the moment might shatter if he didn't. She slipped her hands away from his face and into his hair, letting her nails scrape gently along his scalp, he groaned and allowed his eyes to droop shut. She kissed his eyes; he sighed. She kissed his lips; he shuddered. He swallowed hard, and opened his eyes back up, his face defenseless for the first time.

They gazed at each other for a breath. Ororo wondered what unfathomable thoughts lay behind his coal eyes. But then she stopped wondering and kissed him, kneading the back of his neck gently. He moaned and kissed back, first gently, then progressively more intensely, until his arms were wrapped tightly around her and his tongue was buried in her throat. His groans became louder, too, until finally he flexed and Ororo felt sharp stabs in her side and shoulder where he gripped her.

"Ororo," he gasped, opening his hands like dropping a hot object. His claws were partially extended, and tiny drops of blood dotted each tip. Ororo just smiled gently and pulled his mouth back to hers. She expected to feel painful slices at any moment before realizing he had twisted his wrists so that his fingers gripped the sheets below her, and she relaxed feeling the muscles of his forearms ripple beneath her.

He pulled away slightly and said quietly, "You're gonna have to guide me in. My claws..." She kissed him again and caressed his face. "Yes, Victor." His eyes grew cloudy as she slid her hand down his throat, past his chest and abdomen, and took him her hand. His body shivered and he pulsed in her hand. Ororo too shivered, her long slender fingers not able to encircle his girth. She tensed slightly as she placed him at her entrance.

Noticing her apprehension, he murmured, "Relax." He pushed ever so slightly in, and then withdrew, allowing her to get used to his width. Each time, he pushed in a few degrees more, kissing her at the same time to distract with the ministrations of his mouth. But soon he reached a limit. His gentle pushes no longer carried him further. "Ororo, I have to push harder."

He couldn't grip her with his hands, so he flexed his right arm, which was curled below the small of her back. She felt his iron forearm pull her groin tightly against his, and then his thrust, pushing him in deeply. He shuddered with pleasure, and dropped his head for a moment, savoring the feeling. Ororo concentrated on loosening herself as he thrust hard again trying to get closer still. She lifted her knees allowing the width and weight of him push her thighs completely open. With one last hard thrust, he was fully within her.

Ororo's head fell back to the mattress limply, as she tried to relax herself for what was to come. Sabretooth frowned. "Are you...okay?" She nodded weakly, but began to feel the stirrings of a fear she had not expected. His tremendous weight, the constriction, her utter helplessness beneath him, it was like being trapped under a mountain, like the rubble that had nearly crushed her as a child. He began to move slowly, and it was as if the mountain was inside of her. She felt the rising heat of panic in her face as her claustrophobia began to overwhelm her, and yet as Sabretooth's pelvis ground firmly against her, she thought she had never felt such pleasure. "Victor," she whimpered, not sure if she was begging him to stop or begging him not to.

The sound of his name uttered so tremulously seemed to ignite Sabretooth, and suddenly his body came alive, a writhing python engulfing its prey. Her body was vanquished, crushed by him, stretched open obscenely wide, held inescapably tight. He ground and kneaded her. Bit and licked. And she gave herself in complete abandon, for what could she do but be subjugated by him as he penetrated her deeply, completely, repeatedly.

And still the panic rose along with her pleasure, two racers neck in neck careening on a wild track. She moaned and whimpered, wondering which sensation would win out until the two became entwined, fused in to something more powerful than she had ever experienced. Her body felt like a conductor of all the Earth's energy, the current of a thousand generators coursing through her.

A long stuttered moan trailed out of her throat, and Victor shuddered in response. He too groaned and hissed as he moved inside her. Desperately, he sought her mouth with his own, trying to get deeper, ever deeper. Starting to lose his rhythm, Sabretooth rasped, "Come on baby, let me hear it. Lemme hear you scream." And she did, crying out against his skin as he bit and sucked her lower lip.

As soon as her orgasm began to die away, she felt the ascension to another peak building. "Oh, Victor. I think I'm coming again. Goddess." She clung to the back of his neck, dizzy with ecstasy, the moans coming unrelentingly forth. Sabretooth's embrace became almost crushing as he lost control. Lifting his head, something between a furious roar and a melancholy wail bellowed from his chest. He continued to thrust spasmodically as he rode out the aftershocks, until his body slumped heavily against her, heaving with harsh breaths.

They lay for a time like that, both of them savoring the afterglow. _I can't believe I just did that with Victor Creed. And I can't believe I don't want to let go._ She kept her arms wrapped around him, her fingers caressing the back of his neck. She wanted to hold his head where it had settled pressed up against her neck, wanted to delay seeing his face now that he had gotten what he wanted.

Eventually, he raised himself on his elbows to look at her, and as much as she wanted to avoid his eyes, she couldn't help but look back. His face was impenetrable, and incredibly she found her heart aching as she assumed the worst. _And what is the worst? His getting up and walking out the door? It has to happen that way; this situation is untenable. He's gotten me out of his system, and now we can both move on. _Suddenly filled with anxiety, she began trying to wriggle out from under him as if being the first one to leave might give her some peace.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said roughly, holding her firmly in place. Even his rough words made her stomach flutter. She shrugged bashfully and looked away, not able to articulate the insecurity she felt.

"You didn't like that?" he asked, his tone clearly indicating that he knew better. She looked up at him powerlessly wanting and gasped as he felt him harden again inside of her. He smirked slightly at her reaction, but then leaned in to kiss her neck. "Well, then. Let me try again."


	16. Just Kisses

He had taken her again immediately, gripping her hair, pulling her head back to expose her throat, sucking and biting with each languorous thrust.

And then, after a brief pause, again, sliding his fingers into and out of her mouth, telling her to suck, watching with the fire of imagination at what her mouth might do to other parts of him.

Each time, he had brought her to the peaks of ecstasy but as she felt herself being taken a fourth time, she begged him to stop. "Please. I need to rest." His eyebrows gathered with the frustration of still unspent desire. "Please, Victor." He nodded reluctantly and withdrew slowly from within her, settling himself heavily to her side. Her legs, feeble from their punishing spread, quivered as she attempted to pull them together. Sabretooth gazed lustily and arrogantly at her open legs, sending a shot of embarrassment through her that made her tilt her face away. But soon, she felt his hands helping to straighten her, gliding caressingly down her length, his left arm draping finally, almost protectively over her loins.

When she looked back at him, he had checked his arrogance and was regarding her again with his typical inscrutable look. "You want water?"

"That would be nice. Yes." She glanced down shyly. "And a towel."

He slipped out of the bed with supple catlike movements and she felt her groin twitch. _Ororo, you cannot handle any more right now._ He returned with a tin cup from the bathroom and towel. Ororo sat up to receive the items, but he passed her only the cup and waited for her to drink. Uncomfortable having him stand next her, watching, Ororo downed the water quickly and placed the cup on the floor. He slid fluidly into bed and pressed her gently back. "Lie down. I'll wipe you off."

Starting unnecessarily with her face, he carefully patted her brow, her cheeks, moving steadily lower but with the tentative awkwardness of man not used to performing such actions. For her part, Ororo wasn't about to complain. She appraised him silently as he busied himself with his task, the flex and stretch of his muscles, the coarse blond hair that covered his chest, the jutting squareness of his jaw.

When he finished, he tossed the towel to the floor. He pulled the blanket up over them and Ororo giggled to see it barely cover their legs, particularly Sabretooth's feet sticking out comically from the bottom. "Next time, I'll bring a blanket," he muttered. _Next time._ Realizing his hopeful slip, he stiffly avoided her eyes until she caressed his face. At her touch, he drew her tightly against him and she nestled her face in his chest, tucking her left arm between them and sliding her right over his meaty ribcage._ His body is amazing._

Though his cock twitched against her, he made no move to start again, only stroking her in slow circles over her lower back and buttocks. Ororo herself felt a trembling need at odds with the ache between her legs, and knew if he made an attempt, any attempt, she would give into him instantly. Unable to resist rubbing her face against the muscles of his chest, she both thrilled and panicked when she heard him moan. In a flash, he was rock hard, and his hand stopped its circles to grab her buttocks tightly, his fingers digging into her seam.

"Woman." She stopped her rubbing and pressed her face against his skin, breathing directly into it, feeling and half-heartedly fighting her rising heat. "You make this hard." She didn't even think he had intended the double-entendre.

"Maybe," she said tilting her head up to him, shimmying up a few inches to reach her lips to his chin, "we could just kiss for a while." He gave her a dubious look before pressing his lips to hers. _Mistake._ The moment their lips met, the fire was reignited, and a simple kiss turned into Sabretooth's devouring of her mouth. She couldn't say she was disappointed, yet she whimpered as he rolled her back and spread her legs open once again.

She felt him prodding for her slick entrance as he consumed her lips, and then finding it, thrust abruptly and deeply in, leaving her gasping.

"No rest for the wicked," he whispered in her ear, and then proceeded to show her how wicked she was.


	17. Grenade

She genuinely was exhausted and hungry and as it occurred to her, concerned by her lack of wearable clothing. It was only 6:30 pm but they had already coupled four times and she had defended herself from from a fifth, though how much longer she could do so with no clothing and a blanket barely wider than a bathtowel she did not know. Covering herself meant curling up with Sabretooth under their mean strip of wool, and that meant touching, and _that _so far had meant other things. In a way, though, worrying about mundane things like sleep, food, and clothing distracted her from bigger worries like what in the heavens she was doing with Sabretooth, and what she was ever going to tell people back home.

To her relief, he seemed momentarily sated, holding her tightly to his side while he lazed on his back. Her stomach gurgled, and for the first time in the evening, she fantasized about something other than his body. "Victor?"

"Mmm," he murmured with his eyes closed.

"I don't suppose you have anything to eat?" She looked around the room but saw only their clothes scattered about.

"There are some MREs in the first aid cabinet." She stared at him for a minute or two before realizing Sabretooth wasn't going to offer to retrieve one for her. Squelching her disappointment, she tried to rise only to be stopped by his tightening grip. "Hold on. I'll get it," he grumbled without moving. She pulled against him again. "Do you really want to eat right now?"

As her only reply was an impatient inhalation and exhalation, he begrudgingly sat up and clomped across the room to the cabinet. _Perhaps he's only graceful when he's feeling gentlemanly_. "Do you want red beans and rice, beef enchilada, or pork chop?" he asked.

"I get a choice?" she said playfully. "Beef enchilada, and a glass of merlot please."

He crossed the room, tossed the MRE on the bed and bent down to pick up her cup from the ground. "How about water?" She nodded, and he stole off to the bathroom to get her a refill. Ororo ripped open the packaging of the MRE and examined the contents, finding a metal heating canister among the items.  
When Sabretooth returned, he set her water on the floor and unfurled himself on the bed returning to his semi-sleeping state almost immediately.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was irritated by this. _I suppose I should not have expected too much._ "Victor." She was greeted by a grunt. "I don't think the bed is the best place to eat this. It looks like we have to light a heating can and put it under the pouches. This should probably be done at the table, don't you think?"

"So now you wanted it heated?" he responded insolently. Her mouth dropped open in indignation. Apparently, as long as he was raging with lust he was able to put on a reasonable show, but once his desire was fulfilled he reverted to an ill-mannered lout. This time she decided not to hold her tongue. When she looked over to give him a small piece of her mind, though, she found that he was smiling. Fully smiling. It was a sight to see. And then it dawned on her.

"You're teasing me."

He didn't answer but reached up and pulled her close for another kiss. "I got some stuff. I don't know if you'll like it." He rose again, returned to the first aid cabinet, but this time came back with a basket and a bottle of wine. Placing them in front of her, he proceeded to describe the items in the basket. "There's cheese. I don't know what kind. And some caviar. I think it's from Russia. There are some crackers with black seeds and some others with white seeds, maybe sesame? I don't know. You can see. I don't need to tell you." Ororo excitedly dumped the contents on the bed, delighted with what she found. "Those little mesh bags have pears in 'em. I don't know why. Oh, and the wine isn't a merlot. It's white," he said apologetically. "I heard women like white wine better." She picked up the bottle; it was a 1921 French Chardonnay.

She didn't think she could swoon again, but she felt close. "Come here," she said to him, and barely waited until he slid into bed before she launched herself onto him. She didn't understand how any of this was possible, but she allowed herself to believe. Forgetting about the food, she covered him with kisses, wanting to go for round five even as her belly complained loudly.

Pulling her gently away, he said, "Go ahead. Eat your food."

She wasn't ready to unwrap herself from him just yet. "Will you join me?" He nodded. "Do you want to eat here or at the table?"

He shrugged. "Ladies choice." To which she responded by pressing herself against him and launching into another series of kisses.

Chuckling he suggested, "Why don't we eat at the table and you can sit on my lap?" She nodded into his cheek but didn't dislodge herself from him. In response, she felt his powerful arms tighten around her, lifting and sliding her off the bed. "What's that saying about the mountain and Mohammed?" he asked when had her in his arms, carrying her towards the table.

She looked at him curiously. "If the mountain won't come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain?"

"Mm hmm."

She laughed and was rewarded with a half-smile. "This situation reminds you of that?"

"Yeah, if the mountain won't come to Mohammed, I have to carry Mohammed to the mountain and make her eat her food."

"That's quite a proverb," she said nuzzling his neck.

With that, he set her on the edge of the table, swept an admiring glance over her body, and went to the bed to collect the items Ororo had scattered. When he returned, he was also carrying his shirt and pants. "Put this on," he said handing her the shirt. She ignored it and pressed herself against him.

"I don't think I'll need it if I'm sitting on your lap."

"But _I_ will. Put it on." She slipped it over her head and luxuriated in its well-worn softness and his ground in scent. For his part, he slipped his pants back on, providing another layer of prophylaxis to help them through their meal. He angled the chair at 45 degrees toward the table, sat down, and patted his right knee. She didn't make him wait.

Wearing his shirt made her think of several things, not least was the fact that she couldn't remember the last time she had worn a lover's clothing, but it also reminded her of her own destroyed clothing lying shredded on the floor. "Victor, I don't have anything but shoes to wear home tomorrow."

He curled his right arm behind her back as a support and regarded her current garb with satisfaction. "You can always wear my shirt." She supposed she could. Flying above the clouds, she could really wear whatever she liked, including nothing at all. It was the arrival at home that concerned her. What if there was someone in the yard below her window when she returned? What if, though unlikely, there was someone in her room? What if Logan caught a whiff of scent?

"If I go home while it's still dark..." she began before being cut off.

"You're worried he'll smell you." Sabretooth meant Logan, of course, and though Ororo did not want to start another argument, she also believed in the truth.

"Among my worries, that is one." She could see the animosity begin to grow, and put her hand on his cheek to stop it. "But I don't want _anyone_ back at the house to find out. Just as, I imagine, you have hidden this...tryst from the members of the Brotherhood. Am I right?" Instead of answering, he stared in stony silence. _I thought so. _"Logan is the only one who would know by smell. I have other concerns when it comes to Jean and Professor Xavier."

A growl erupted from Sabretooth's chest, startling her. "I hate those mindfuckers."

She raised her eyebrows in disapproval and warning. "Those are my friends."

If she had thought he would back down, she was wrong. "I. hate. mindfuckers," he spat. "And you can warn 'em if they're such good friends of yours that if they ever try the shit they tried five months ago, they'll be damn sorry."

Ororo fell silent, focused on the anger that had sprung up like a weed. She felt ambushed by his vitriol and resented it, resented that he'd say such things about Professor Xavier and Jean of all people, and resented that he had lobbed it like a grenade into their beautiful moment. "Victor," she managed finally, her voice tight with bitterness. "They were trying to help you." She folded her arms to control the desire to clench her fists. "You even hate people who want to help you."

"Those fuckers don't want to help anyone. They get their jollies messing with people's heads. Maybe they have you fooled, but not me."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing they're far more powerful than you," Ororo said coldly. "You'll never get close enough to do anything."

"Everyone has to sleep sometime."

She couldn't stand it. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard she could hear her blood pumping in her ears. Standing up and walking stiffly towards the window, she said, "You're unbelievable. Really." Her thoughts were running through her head at the speed of light - _He was so wonderful not five minutes ago. He's so dreadful. How could he touch me like that? What am I doing here? Jean was right. Logan was right. Oh Goddess, I wish I could rewind the clock five minutes. This is a dangerous, insane man. You are a fool. He went through so much trouble. You must get out, now _- but underlying all of it was disappointment.

Controlling her expression, her movements, her breathing, she gathered up her shoes and socks. "I should go home," she said quietly.

"Wait," he said, jumping up. "You don't have to get so upset."

"I don't have to get so upset?" She shook her head. "We're about to sit down and enjoy these wonderful things that you brought, and then without provocation, you curse my friends and threaten to kill them. And you didn't think that would make me upset?"

"I said _if_ they messed with me..."

She shook her head again.

"Why shouldn't I be pissed about what happened five months ago, all that diggin' in my brain? You didn't think it was bad for me to defend myself against those drug dealers. Why isn't it okay for me to defend against mindfuckers?"

"Could you please say 'telepaths'?"

"Telepaths."

The fact that he had a half-valid grievance was oddly disturbing to her. Nevertheless, it was only half-valid. "They weren't 'messing' with you; they were trying to help you."

"And I said I don't believe that." His face was serious with far more intelligence than she would ever have expected. That too unnerved her. "Be careful of telepaths, Ororo. They're not what they seem." _And what about sociopaths?_

"Well you're wrong about Jean and Charles."

He sighed. "If I agree that I could be wrong. Will you agree that I could be right?"

"No."

He frowned for moment before a half-smile curved slowly up his face. "Stubborn woman." Cautiously, he approached her and put his arms around her. "Well, will you agree to disagree?"

He was trying to lighten the mood, but she wasn't ready for that yet. The subject had been opened, the moment had been spoiled, and there was something she needed to address, something that had been weighing on her. "You think you should be angry about what happened in the past. What about me? You tried to kill me."

He stopped breathing, his face frozen as if caught in lie. "And a couple of hours ago," she continued, "you tried to rape me. Maybe _I_ should hate _you_."

Dropping his hands, he walked away from her. "That was different."

"Different?" she retorted incredulously.

"I...I said I was sorry." He was staring at the bed; she hoped the sight of her ruined garments made him feel ashamed.

"You apologized for trying to rape me. You didn't apologize for trying to kill me."

"I didn't apologize for tryin' to kill you because I didn't..."

Impatience saturated Ororo's voice. "You didn't what? You didn't want to kill me?"

"Yeah, maybe."

"You can do better than that, Victor. Answer the question."

Sabretooth was silent for a long time, so long Ororo thought he might have given up on the conversation. Finally losing her patience, she turned to go when he spoke up. "First I was sent to get the girl. That was the first time I saw you. You...distracted me. Later, I was sent to stop you, by any means necessary. Usually that means I kill the person. But when I saw you again, I thought I might... I might enjoy..." He exhaled tensely unable to finish the sentence.

"Raping me?"

He turned to face her. "Yes." His eyes were full of a turmoil she couldn't read, and he quickly looked to the floor. "I wanted to fuck you so bad. I didn't think about your powers or that the Runt was runnin' around up there. I just wanted to fuck you. I wanted to rip your clothes off, spread your legs, and shove my dick inside. That's all I could think about." His head rose with a sudden ferocious energy and he strode over to her. "You might not like what I do, but I'm _good_. I've never been given a mark I couldn't kill." He brought his face close to hers and for a moment, for a split second, she thought he was going to kill her. "Never."

Straightening himself, he paced away, back to the bed, and shook his head with bewilderment. "Then the next thing I knew, I was defeated by a bunch of weaklings 'cause I couldn't stop thinking about pussy. Your pussy."

She couldn't tell if he was angry at her for this. But if he was, it didn't explain the expensive wine and goose liver pate. If he just wanted to have her violently, it didn't explain why he had taken such care.

He turned back to her with a sad look, half smile and half frown.

"That's never happened to me before."


	18. Think It Over

He left - first taking back his shirt by stripping it off her in a surprising swoop, then telling her "Eat your food, sleep; I'll be back in a few hours with some clothes." He had walked out the door without another word, and now she was left - standing naked in the middle of the room, uncertain of her next move.

For the second time that day, she felt like someone dropped out of an amusement park ride, nerves jangled and head spinning. Feeling her nakedness acutely, she wrapped herself in the blanket off the bed and proceeded to pick through the basket he'd left her: crackers, breads, chocolates, candies, cheese, fruit spreads, and on and on. It was thoughtful. Or maybe it was easy, something he picked up in minutes from a fancy grocery store. And yet somehow even that seemed immense. She couldn't imagine Sabretooth walking into a gourmet grocer asking about gift baskets. For that matter, she couldn't imagine him in any grocery store or doing anything mundane, buying apples, paying rent, parallel parking. But surely he must do those things.

His most recent words had been a revelation steeped in another mystery. She knew more and understood less than she had before. Even Sabretooth himself didn't seem to understand how he felt about the situation. She wondered if he was on the verge, if that was what she had seen in his face before he left. He wanted to kill, but he also wanted to 'fuck' and he couldn't decide which he wanted more. Maybe it really was as simple as that. Sex. It was nothing more than sex. He was a methodical killer, tracking, planning, prepared for every contingency. It made sense that he be equally methodical in seduction. Women like French wine. Check. Women like caviar by a roaring fire. Check. Ororo likes it gentle, and he's willing to act the part. Check.

That's all there was. The fact that he kissed her like a lover, that he made her body react like no man had before meant nothing, or rather, it just meant Ororo was reading things into his touch that she wanted to find. People could make themselves believe anything.

She needed air. The November night had already fallen, and walking out onto the porch, she could barely see the trees at the edge of the clearing. She blinked at the darkness. It had been years since she'd spent the night in a forest, and she had forgotten just how dark it could be far removed from the light residue of towns and shopping complexes. The clouds and canopy overhead obscured the starlight, and the light of the moon still low on the horizon was lost among the trees. For a moment, she wondered how Sabretooth would find his way but then she remembered what little light his eyes required to see.

Thinking back to that night in the mansion, the night she had thought she was dreaming, she wondered how long he had watched her sleep before descending upon her. It chilled her to think of the ease with which he could have slit her throat. Nevertheless, it had been careless of him to try to take her there. Jean or the Professor could have found him and recaptured him; Logan and Scott if they had gotten back in time, might have been able to disable him. What had he been thinking? Had he been so overwhelmed with desire that he had been willing to lose his freedom again?

Suddenly she felt as if she were not alone. Her eyes peered around the clearing but saw nothing more than vague grey shapes before a wall of blackness. "Victor?" she called, her voice seeming incredibly loud. She had never had reservations about standing at her window at night; standing on this porch should not have been different, but it was so very dark and being framed with the firelight from the cabin so that all the forest could observe her naked silhouette made her feel vulnerable. Too many things could be out there watching her, drug dealers, killers, rapists. She shook her head ruefully. _What out there could be worse than what was with me tonight?_ Again she was chilled and retreated back into the cabin, to the false safety of the bed.

Perhaps she really was lulling herself into believing she was safer than she was. Curled up against the wall, the smell of their sex in the air was distracting, perhaps enough to make her forget to be afraid. The afternoon _was_ all about sex she decided. And what happened when the sex ran out, when it ceased to be appealing to him? There was no reason to think the end would be peaceful, no reason to think that Sabretooth, once he'd had his fill, would behave like a normal person. She couldn't imagine he was the type to say, "I think we should see other people." Everything she knew of him pointed to a violent end, her end. She had heard things after all…

She should probably run now while she had the chance. She could fly home, slip into the window, take a long hot shower. If someone was in the yard, she could wait in the distance. It would be uncomfortable, waiting in the garden without clothes until the coast was clear, but she would be home. Safe.

Of course, she knew she wasn't going anywhere at that point. She would wait for him. He wouldn't kill her tonight; it wouldn't make sense to spend hours fetching a new set of clothes just to return and kill her. For some reason, that one reassurance - he won't kill me tonight - eased her nerves enough to trick her into sleep. She felt herself drifting off, the smell of him surrounding her.


	19. Return

She woke sweating, blood rushing in her ears, her beating heart pumping like a rickety engine. A tangle of dense muscle surrounded her, and glimpses of a constricting snake flickered in her mind before fading in the darkness. Her tattered breathing slowed and steadied as she remembered where she was. In the gloom - she wondered vaguely about the time - she found his face looming just over her shoulder, his left arm draped over her, his right arm her pillow.

"You were having a nightmare."

Fuzzy images of violence and panic hovered just beyond her recollection. "Yes," she whispered although she did not remember it.

Her eyes were slowly adjusting but even so, as she turned her head to look at him, he was still in shadow. It disconcerted her to know that with his eyes, he could see her perfectly. She shivered, and his left hand rose to her shoulder, turning her on her back to face him.

"It was about me."

"No," she refuted though she couldn't remember. "I don't know. No, I don't think so." But then after a beat, "I don't know."

Her head lay in the bend of his elbow, cradled between forearm and bicep. His left hand now gripped her side gently, holding her firm against him. Noticing her lower body was still twisted to the side, he straightened her out, turning her knees toward him, and then, after a moment of consideration, lifted her legs and draped them over one of his thighs which he had slid snugly up to her buttocks. An interlocking puzzle of arms and legs, she felt comfortable, and yet not completely at ease.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he said, his shadowy face providing ironic contrast to his words. Again, she shivered but said nothing, considering his words, considering the day and the events that had propelled her into his arms. As if he were following her thoughts on a reel, he spoke again just as she was remembering his anger, the ripping of her clothes, the madness in his eyes when he bruised her flesh. "I'm sorry...for before."

She remained silent, considering, still considering. "Victor," she finally said, "there's a part of you that wants to kill me." It was a statement, because it was true. She knew it was.

He ceased his kisses, but kept his mouth pressed into the soft skin behind her ear. "No. There isn't."

Twisting to look at him, she saw only a grey mass with caverns for eyes and turned back almost immediately in discomfort. She didn't like this, his clarity while she squinted in the dark. "Don't lie to me. Jean and Professor Xavier both said that all of you feelings toward me are ones of rage."

"The mindfuckers said that, did they?" At the tensing of her body, he amended his words. "I mean, the telepaths."

"I'm not stupid, Victor. Don't lie to me, and don't say some foolishness like you feel rage but it doesn't mean you want to kill me. I know what rage is to you."

"Do you?"

He was full of endless diversions, and she wasn't going to follow. She closed her eyes and tried to clear the remnants of nightmare from her mind so she could return to sleep.

Feeling her begin to drift away, he spoke again. "It's a tactic, Ororo." She ignored him breathing deeply, turning her head by millimeters farther away from him. "When I sense someone in my mind, I fill my thoughts with something easy and believable. Something they would expect."

She felt herself being drawn back; she wanted answers. "But there was much more anger toward me than anything else they asked you about."

"Asked me about?" he growled. "I like these little euphemisms you've come up with to talk about those fu..telepaths." She closed her eyes again at his outburst. "Okay, okay. Look, what they saw was because I really didn't want them seeing what I was thinking about you."

"And what were you thinking?"

His lips smiled against her neck. "Well, I wasn't thinking about killing you." Another slip. She sighed and closed her eyes. "All right. I was thinking about this."

"You mean you were thinking about sex," she said without opening her eyes. Now, it was his turn to fall silent. She could tell he wasn't sleeping because his lips slid by the barest of degrees up and down her neck. Finally, he muttered a half-hearted 'yeah,' then lifted himself up so that his face hovered above her again. Though she couldn't see him, she felt his eyes bore into her.

"Ororo, you don't have to be afraid of me. I'm not interested in…hurting you." But as he said the words, they sounded creepy, what a serial killer might say before committing a heinous act. She turned into herself, folding her arms protectively over her chest. "Ororo, I swear…"

He leaned down closer to her, his lips grazing her forehead. "What happened before won't happen again." They slid down her temple. "I swear to you. I swear to you." His hot breath was on her cheek, and then at her neck. The heat began rising in her groin again, and she wondered if he would be able to smell the fresh arousal.

When his fingers crept between her knees, slowly spreading them apart, she knew he had. His hands slid up her thighs to her apex, his claws gliding faintly back and forth. "You smell so sweet," he said, retracting his claws so his fingers could stroke more firmly. "Why don't you let me make you feel good?" She tried closing her legs, but he silently and firmly pushed them apart again, spreading her even more the second time. His hands went back to their insistent caresses when one of the hard nubs of his claws breached her folds and ran across her clitoris, drawing an involuntary gasp from her. "Oh yeah, Sweets. You know I make you feel good." Fingers pushed inside while his thumb orbited her pleasure center, and she found herself helplessly grabbing him for support, her right hand going to the arm beneath her head, her left clawing into his chest. His body rumbled in response.

"You don't have to be afraid of me," he murmured as she felt herself being taken away. "I'm not going to hurt you. You don't have to be afraid."


	20. In The Morning Light

She was up with the dawn; mixed emotions make for unsettling bed partners. Though she tried to turn softly to see Sabretooth's face as he slept, her movement woke him and she encountered his sleepy, waking gaze. He looked benign in this relaxed state, a normal man dusting away the cobwebs of sleep. "Good morning," she whispered.

His lips twitched. "Good morning."

She cupped his cheek and felt her stomach quiver as she watched his eyelids flutter at her touch. "I have to get up," she said. He frowned and pulled her closer in response. "No, really," she urged. "I need to wash up and get back. We have a meeting today about…" and here she stumbled, "about…the murders I spoke of." Her voice trailed off. He hadn't committed them, but discussing the matter with him seemed wrong.

He held her gaze steadily. "You believe me, don't you? That I didn't do it?"

She surprised herself by answering "yes" right away, and even more, she was surprised that she meant it. He pulled her lips to his, melting her once again. But rallying all her willpower, she pulled back, chuckling to herself at how hard it was, how she wanted to stick to him like a magnet. "No, no. I have to go."

He grumbled irritably and held her tight. "One more time, Sweets." His use of the endearment he had christened the night before, here in the morning light, made her heart skip. "One more and then I'll let you go." He kissed her again. "Maybe."

* * *

She did finally extricate herself from his arms. It might have been an hour later and involve promises of pleasures to come, but she was eventually triumphant. And though he followed her into the bathroom to watch with a combination of lust and resentment as she washed the evidence of him away, he didn't touch her.

When he offered her the towel and she refused it, he didn't even flinch.

The clothes he had purchased were in plastic packages, a checked flannel shirt and boxers. She handled the plastic like contaminated material, pinching with the tips of her fingers and ripping it open quickly. The over-sized flannel nearly covered the boxers but she didn't complain. At least she was covered. He had touched her boots but she decided she wouldn't worry; she'd leave them outside the mansion. The socks she abandoned.

Taking stock of herself and feeling everything was in order - at least as well as could be expected - she exhaled a deep breath. "Victor, will you get the door for me?" she asked as sweetly as she could.

He obliged but before letting her through he asked, "When will I see you again?" His face was as impassive as his delivery, showing no more emotion than a question about the weather. Nevertheless, it woke her to the fact that they hadn't discussed the future. _What will it be? Another weekend before we realize the absurdity of our actions?_

"Well," she started, "I might be able to meet you next weekend." His eyes flashed subtly. "But it depends on the investigation. If Professor Xavier sends me out of town, I suppose I won't be able to." Her chest tightened briefly as the thought passed through her that perhaps there would not even be another weekend. Maybe this obstacle, this sign of their incompatibility would give him pause. After all, what would they do? Call each other on the phone? Send each other text messages? The complication of it all weighed on her suddenly, heavily.

He looked away as if trying to decide something. "Ororo," he said after a minute of silence passed between them, one in which she regretted the detached manner in which she was departing. She wished she could kiss him, touch him up to the very moment of lift off, but she just couldn't, not if she wanted to keep their secret safe. "I'm going to tell you something. It's how to get a message to me if you can't meet me." His demeanor was intense but in a different way from before, cold, calculating, cautious. "I'm trusting you not to tell anyone." He gave her a sharp look. "And to be smart about this."

Ororo nodded solemnly and he told her, a number to an electronic message service – she could also contact it through email. The communications were converted somehow to another form. There were a lot of layers and he wouldn't describe them, but he did explain how she could retrieve a message using a 20 digit password.

"I'm never going to remember that," she complained with teasing pout.

His face was unresponsive and his words were curt. "Remember it."

She bristled at his tone and asked, a tinge of sarcasm coloring her voice, "Is this how your 'clients' get a hold of you?"

He ignored the question but added a brusque addendum. "Keep the communication to a minimum." She hardened slightly – _Calm, Ororo. Don't fight now_ - and when he stepped back from the doorway, she passed through in silence. She didn't want to leave like a petulant child, but if that's the way he wanted it, she wasn't going to beg him for a good-bye.

Lifting herself off the porch, trying to keep a bad taste from settling in her mouth, she heard him speak. "It feels like a stray thought." Turning but not lowering herself, she raised a curious eyebrow. "When a telepath wants to get into your head. It feels like you're having a stray thought about the thing they're looking for."

A flicker passed over his face. _Does he want to say something else? Does he want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss him?_ She had to fight the urge not to drop back into his arms. "So, I can't have a stray thought about you?" she asked smiling gently.

"No. Think of something else." The flicker was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Or some_one_?" she taunted. She didn't know why she goaded him just then, except that she wanted the fire back. His eyes narrowed but he didn't take the bait.

"Train yourself," he said, and walked back inside.


	21. Welcoming Party

**A/N:** Hey everybody, thank you **SO MUCH** for reviewing! I have a sad confession, though. I am a slow writer. In order to avoid dropping off the map for a two months like I did a while back, I've decided that I'm going to pace myself. I'm going to try posting on Wedsnesdays and Sundays. We'll see how this works. I hope you'll keep following along. I know this is longer than we all expected at the outset.

**A/N:** As a consolation, you may want to check out the blog "Shirtless Superheroes." Yes, it's exactly what it sounds like, pages of scanned pictures of...shirtless superheroes. Check out May 2009, "Sabretooth Bondage." It's a nice one.

:)

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Flying gives one opportunity to think, nothing to see but the landscape below, nothing to hear but a roaring wind. On her way home, she went over the possibilities of whom she might see, what she would say when she walked in, what she would say later when the questions insisted themselves upon her. She formed a plan and felt prepared as she dropped down onto the grounds of the school. Hair and body wind-whipped but dry from the flight, she moved quickly. Into the house, drop the boots, get to the bedroom, repeated like a mantra in her head.

She kicked off her boots by the garden tools in the garage, placing a bag of fertilizer in front of them just for good measure; now she would slip quickly up to her room to change into something more appropriate, less like that of someone who spent the night in the cab of a big rig. No one had greeted her in the yard. No Scott or Logan had tinkered in the garage. She almost thrilled as she came into the home stretch, rounding the bottom banister of the stairs, counting the seconds before she reached her room, when she heard Jean call out.

"Where have you been? We were looking for you last night to go the movies."

Ororo sucked in her breath and tried to look casual as she turned around. Emerging from the kitchen were Scott and Jean, hands clasped in absent-minded affection, Scott still munching on a bagel which he held in his left hand.

"Are you just waking up?" Jean asked, smiling at her outfit. Rumpled hair, bare feet, an extra large flannel, it made sense. Ororo's mind weighed the possibility of success were she to improvise a lie. _I could say I got home late and slept in. _ "Well…," she began, stalling for time.

As the couple approached, Scott's eyes widened, first a tad, then to bulging. Ororo's heart skipped wondering what she had missed. She imagined ridiculous things: she had forgotten that she was wearing Sabretooth's notorious fur-lined coat (No, of course not); her shirt pocket had the name 'Victor Creed' embroidered on it (No, how could it). She glanced over herself – trying to hide her agitation - looking for whatever it was that triggered Scott's reaction.

"What is _that_?" he asked, staring directly at the right side of her neck.

Jean's eyes immediately followed, and soon after, they too bulged. "Oh my gosh." Jean's mouth spread into a disbelieving smile. "Is that a hicky?"

Ororo found her hand travelling involuntarily up to her neck, covering the location that had intrigued her friends. _Of all the things to forget._ Washing up in the cabin, she hadn't noticed anything but neither had she really examined herself in the warped stainless steel mirror that hung in the rudimentary bathroom, not with Sabretooth watching her every move from two feet away.

"Where were you last night?" Jean asked.

_Didn't Logan tell them_ _I met someone?_ She had expected questions about the evening but she hadn't expected their complete ignorance and she faltered trying to remember the exact story she had told the day before. Caught off guard, she blurted out, "Didn't Logan tell you?"

Two pairs of eyebrows rose, two shocked expressions. "Logan?" Scott murmured. It took a moment for Ororo to realize what they were thinking and when it hit her, a rosy flush bloomed across her cheeks. Her jaws worked silently, trying and failing to pump out a response, but before she could clarify, the devil himself strolled in from the backyard, smoldering cigar in hand. The looks he received from Jean and Scott would have made Ororo laugh had she not been frozen.

Though the pair seemed equally shocked, in the corner of Jean's eye was a faint twinkle of amusement. "Logan, is there something you want to tell us?"

Logan scowled at them. "What? I'm not apologizing."

Scott coughed in discomfort. "We weren't asking you to apologize. We're just…where did this _come _from?" Scott glanced quickly back and forth between Logan and Ororo.

"What do you mean, 'where did this come from?'" Logan snarled. "It came from my cigar box, genius. And I wasn't smoking it inside; I was on the back porch. Jesus, Mary, you have a stick up your ass."

Jean folded her arms. "I meant about 'Ro," she said, jerking her head in Ororo's direction.

He looked at Ororo and frowned. "What are you talking…" He stopped, seeing the same discolored flesh beneath her fingers that had shocked everyone else. As Logan's own eyes widened in amazement, Ororo fretted at how bad it must be to cause such a shock. _How could I not have noticed it?_ He stared for a moment longer before a sudden panic gripped him, and he shot a pleading look at Jean. "Hey, I didn't do that!"

Something in Logan's frantic face loosened Ororo's awkwardness and a small chuckle bubbled up. Three pairs of eyes turned to her, Logan's glaring, as if she had spread a dirty rumor about him. "Okay, all three of you…" She paused to laugh. "No, no," she said, finding her words at last. "Logan did not make this mark on my neck. Logan, why didn't you tell them where I was last night?"

Still bewildered by the situation he had walked into, he shrugged and blinked. Then, recovering from his fluster, he found her eyes and gave her a meaningful look. "I figured it was your business." Ororo smiled and gave him an appreciative nod. He nodded back. He looked so understanding in that split second that she wondered what would happen if she told him the complete truth. Her musing was cut short, however, by Jean's exasperated sigh.

"Ororo, will you please tell me what you were doing last night?"

_Inhale. Exhale._ "I ran into someone while I was hiking yesterday and we decided to go out afterwards. I called the house and told Logan my plans but apparently he did not pass the message."

A dozen questions erupted across Jean's face, all vying to be the first out of her mouth. Ororo took the opportunity of Jean's indecision to regain her bearings. She needed to execute the second part of the plan: the plausible explanation, but she wanted Jean alone. There was a story of sorts to tell, but it was more artful dodge than anything. Jean would find it unsatisfying for certain but if she could accept it, the boys would fall in line after her. It would have to be good enough.

"Jean, let's talk upstairs. I want to change my clothes."

"Yes!" Jean responded, her eyes lighting up like fireworks. She grabbed Ororo's arm and began pulling her up the stairs, eliciting a chuckle from Scott. Jean glared down at him. "Scott, don't laugh at me. This is big news." He just laughed harder.

"I'm your friend, too, 'Ro," he called as they headed up. "I expect to be shown that hicky, too."

Logan's appearance was less jovial, more thoughtful, as she disappeared around the corner. She wondered fleetingly if he disapproved.


	22. Artful Dodge

**A/N:** Yes it's arriving late and it's short, but I'm sick. I'll be back soon. :)

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"All right, spill."

Ororo opened her mouth only to be cut off. "First of all, how could you tell Logan and not me?" It was an accusation but Jean was smiling a giddy, happy smile, reminding Ororo of days when the most serious thing they worried about was whether or not Scott would ask Jean out.

"I called the house last night…" Again she was cut off.

"Nevermind," Jean said waving her hand to shoo away her previous question. "Who is this guy?"

Ororo took a breath. This is what she had prepared for. "Jean, I can't tell you." She held up her hands at Jean's striking frown. "Wait. Let me finish. Last night wasn't planned. I ran into someone while I was hiking and it just happened. But it was very...let's see, inappropriate. We shouldn't have done it and I promised I wouldn't talk about it."

Jean stared at her in disbelief, her glow dissipating like a sad ghost. "Do I know him?"

Ororo paused, uncertain if she could even answer the question safely. She thought back to the woods, her flight there, the cabin, the form in the shadow of the trees. They were fleeting thoughts that spirited past her mind's eye. _No! I can't think about this._ Forcefully, she thought of the first other person she could. It happened to be Scott.

_No! Not Scott. Don't think that._ She pushed Scott back down into the murk and pulled up blindly at the next thing there: Logan. _Logan. Yes, I can think of him. _She tried to call up images of him, one after another: their conversations, his motorcycle tinkering, training together in the danger room. In the midst of this, she managed to speak. "You know of him, but you don't know him."

Jean's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean? He's a celebrity or something? Are you sure I don't know him?"

_Logan. Logan. Logan. _"Yes, I'm sure." A suspicious look passed over Jean's face and Ororo did her best to make her own face appear guileless.

"So it definitely wasn't Logan?" Jean asked, her eyes shooting into Ororo's as if daring her to blink.

Ororo's heart skipped. _Why did she say that?_ _He was right…_ But no. She stopped herself before her mind wandered too far. She could not think of that, of him, of last night. _Concentrate on Logan. Logan. Logan._ "Logan? What? Where did you get that idea?"

Jean shook her head. "Just…well, downstairs. You and Logan seemed jumpy around each other."

_Logan. Logan. Logan. _"Jean, Logan was jumpy because he doesn't want you to think any other woman may have caught his eye. He doesn't want you thinking you're not his one and only." Ororo laughed, but it sounded forced, or maybe it was just her mind playing tricks on her. She forced herself to control her breathing and smile. "Now please, Jean. You're my friend. And we're friends enough for you to trust me and to…respect my privacy."

Jean glanced away for a moment, but exhaled and gave Ororo a little smile. "You're right. I just…" Her questions battled each other plainly on her face. Though Ororo could tell Jean was trying to contain them, they continued to push out. "It's just…why is it inappropriate?" Jean's smile dropped away and worry crept in. "It isn't a married man, is it?"

Ororo wanted to shout. It was too hard. This subterfuge, Jean's trolling, trying to think of anything but that which she most wanted to think about. But she wouldn't give up. _Logan. Logan. Logan._ Jean was her good friend, maybe her best friend. Of course she wanted to know. Of course she would press. But maybe, Ororo hoped, Jean trusted her enough to give her space.

"Jean, I can't talk about it!"

Jean's body stiffened and she looked away from Ororo. "'Ro, you wouldn't have an affair with a married man, would you?" Her words were quiet, almost fearful. They didn't even seem to be about Ororo anymore. Jean stared off in the distance as if Ororo had said something to hurt her, and Ororo gave in. An inch.

"No, I wouldn't," she said sighing. "All right? It's not a married man, but I still can't talk about it." Jean's shoulders relaxed. "Please Jean. I know this is strange. You're wondering why I would want to have a secret affair. It's complicated. Will you accept that, for me? And anyway, I might not even see him again. It's not…a sustainable kind of situation. I can tell you that much. So just don't worry, okay? Let me have this silly little private thing. You can still try to fix me up with those guys you meet at your conferences. Some nice, good-looking, responsible radiologist. That's what I need, right?" She smiled encouragingly at her friend.

Jean folded her arms and remained silent for a moment trying to decide whether or not to be upset. Finally, a crooked, begrudging grin broke through. "I never wanted to hook you up with a radiologist. He was a geneticist, and he was really nice." Ororo laughed and this time it felt natural.

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**A/N**: For those who aren't familiar with the comic book universe, Scott does think of other women, and does eventually leave Jean for another woman. The movie-verse is different but maybe there are whispers of the other timeline...


	23. Briefing

As she knew it would, word spread, first that she hadn't come home last night and second, which only made the first part more intriguing, that she wasn't speaking of it. By evening when Professor Xavier called them into his office for a meeting, the kids were giving her sidelong looks in the hallways and giggling. Kurt and Logan also regarded her out of the corners of their eyes as she entered the study, Kurt behaving with conspicuous decorum as if his politeness would quash the licentious whispers in the house, and Logan curiously, almost uncomfortably, avoiding interaction. Scott, on the other hand, smirked at the turtleneck she wore. He pointed to his own collar and mouthed the words, "Nice."

Xavier, pretending to be unaware of the mutters and meaningful glances around him, darkened the room without preamble and brought up an image on the projector. "These are the locations of the four murders in question." With a click of his remote, little red dots appeared over a map: one in New Jersey, one in Maryland, and two in Virginia. "They have all been listed as stabbings. However, all four victims had fatal trauma to their throats and significant body lacerations."

"Where did you get this information?" Ororo asked. Xavier always had his ways, some of which he would discuss and some of which he wouldn't. But Ororo always asked.

"I was alerted by an ally in the FBI who occasionally checks on things for me. He also does work with pattern recognition. Off the clock." Xavier cleared his throat. "He believes the murders are related and that the killer may be a mutant. As I said, this FBI contact is an ally and wanted to give us a chance to handle the matter discretely if possible. A mutant serial killer of humans would be very bad for the cause."

"I didn't know you had spies in the FBI, Chuck," Logan said. "You're sneakier than I thought."

Xavier regarded him coolly, but didn't respond.

"Charles, what makes your contact believe the killer is a mutant?" Ororo asked, trying to keep the brief on track. She glanced over to Logan who diverted his eyes immediately back to the screen.

"Good question, Ororo. I was just coming to that." The professor flipped to the next slide. "World Church of the Creator," Xavier intoned. "The first victim was connected to this organization. It's on the FBI's list of possible domestic terror organizations and the Southern Poverty Law Center's hate group watch list, among others. As you can see from the slide, they are responsible for a variety of violent criminal activity up to and including murder. Although not specifically an anti-mutant group, they are known to target us. In 1992, one of their members was convicted of throwing a grenade into a New York City bar known to be frequented by mutants. Three people were killed."

Xavier flipped to the next slide. "Victim two was a Polish-Czech immigrant linked by Interpol to an apparently defunct anti-semitic group called, 'Svuj k svemu,' Czech for 'Each to his own.' The group has not been held officially responsible for any violent crimes, and has generally been thought of as a fringe subgroup of more established nationalist political parties. Victim one and victim two have no known ties to each other, but their link to hate groups is an interesting coincidence. No other plausible motives for either murder have been revealed. Victims three and four are unknowns. That is where I'd like us to start our investigation."

Logan snorted. "Why don't we save everybody's time and just go after Sabretooth?"

Ororo suppressed a jump. Struggling to recall neutral memories, ones not steeped in the heat of passion, she wondered if she should try to speak up for Sabretooth, and if so, how. _What can I say? That he told me he didn't do it?_ To her relief, Xavier spoke for her. "While Sabrtooth is indeed capable of these acts, it does not mean there are not others similarly capable. Furthermore, though we suspect these murders are linked and the work of a mutant, we have no proof of either suspicion."

Logan rolled his eyes.

"Scott, as team leader, you'd be my first choice to go. However, as you are taking the seniors on a field trip tomorrow, I'm going to send Ororo instead. Jean, you will go with her."

Scott frowned. "Professor, if these people are linked to a hate group, do you think it's a good idea to send Ororo? I mean, she can take care of herself," and at this he smiled at her, "but they might not want to talk to her."

Xavier steepled his hands beneath his chin in thought. "I believe sending Ororo and Jean as a team will be effective. Any mental buzz of bigotry will be picked up by Jean. It might help up flush the quail from the bushes, so to speak. I'm sure Ororo and Jean will use whatever they find to their advantage. They are after all clever young women."

After the meeting, Ororo and Scott stayed behind to plan the logistics for the week now that the teaching schedule had been disrupted. Despite a round of mild bickering, they settled on a plan that required Logan to play substitute teacher for her classes on Monday, which the kids would love – Logan never followed the teaching plan and when primed properly spent half the class telling stories of epic fights – but also required staying late on Tuesday and Wednesday to make up, which the kids would hate.

"Don't worry, 'Ro," Scott said as they left the conference room. "The kids will probably blame you, but at least they won't blame me." He grinned as she took a swipe at his head.

"Have fun on your field trip," she said, turning to head up to her room. "Maybe next time the Professor will let you ride along with the big girls."

Scott nodded his head in faux resignation, but caught her arm before she walked away. "'Ro, take care of my girlfriend."

She smiled. "Of course."

"And 'Ro? Take care of yourself, too."

"I will," she nodded.

"And 'Ro, one more thing." He pulled her closer, just slightly, looking at her solemnly. "When am I going to get to see the hicky?"

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A/N: World Church of the Creator is unfortunately a real organization. In 1999, one of its members went on a shooting spree, killing a black college basketball coach, a Korean grad student, and injuring 6 Jews walking home from a synagogue. Svuj k svemu was also a real organization that existed around the time of WWII.


	24. Territorial

She didn't always retire to her room so early – it was only eight o'clock – but she had some things to think about, or rather, things to try very hard not to think about. Either way, she felt like having quiet time away from curious glances. The mansion was a little island sometimes, insular, co-dependent, everyone knowing the business of everyone else. It was comforting at times – she suspected even Logan was being drawn slowly into the cozy familiarity – but right now, when she had something to hide, it was a trial.

The quiet knock at her door roused her from her jumbled thoughts. Upon opening, she found Logan standing on the attic landing. "Yes?"

"Hey, 'Ro," he said, and she wondered at the slight awkwardness of his stance. _He's never seemed that way before._ "I was going to play a little pool downstairs and was looking for a partner." His eyes traveled to her neck, exposed now that she had changed into a light t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Her left hand moved to cover it once again.

She gave him a skeptical look. "Since when have you needed a partner to shoot pool?"

The hackles rose on the back of his neck, either from having his view obscured or from the needling character of her question; his lip curled in response. "Since I felt like it." His muscles tightened and stance shifted ever so slightly as if he were about to forget the whole thing and march down the stairs in a huff. But he didn't. He stood there watching her. She had no interest in playing pool or anything else at the moment but the thought occurred to her that perhaps a distraction was just what she needed to hold back the temptation to peruse her memories. "All right," she decided. "Let me get my robe."

Logan's demeanor changed quickly once she consented. He became relaxed, almost jovial as they made their way down to the rec room. He shooed a couple boys up out of the room telling them to go study, and began racking the balls, grousing about teenagers scratching the felt. His skill outmatched everyone else's in the house, but it didn't matter. Ororo was there for a diversion and concentrating on getting her shots just right, the grasp on the cue, the chalk on the tip, did keep her mind from other things.

Logan also seemed to be in a rare mood to chat about aimless things, an unusual but welcome additional distraction. Over time, since Logan first arrived, his initial meaner-than-thou attitude had softened to a loyal grouchiness. He had become more comfortable interacting with, if not Scott, everyone else in the mansion, and had even revealed an elusive talkative side, one which Ororo supposed was making an appearance tonight.

"So I was at this bar the other night..." Logan said.

"Clyde's?"

"No, it wasn't as nice as Clyde's."

"It wasn't as _nice_ a place as Clydes? I hope you sanitized yourself afterwards."

Logan gave her a wry look but continued. "Anyway, I was talking to this guy at the bar, and he was hung up drooling over some pregnant lady at one of the tables."

"There was a pregnant woman in the bar?"

"She wasn't drinking," he said with a huff. "At least I don't think she was drinking. So the guy says to me, 'The great thing about women with kids is that you know they give it up.'"

Ororo shook her head. "Sage wisdom."

"It's kind of the same thing with Jean, you know?"

"And how is this?" Ororo leaned down to line up her next shot. A smooth snap of her wrist and the orange thirteen ricocheted into a side pocket. The glow of self-satisfaction tickled her for an instant, but went unnoticed by Logan.

"Because I knew - I know - she gives it up; she has One-Eye here. You can smell the sex on her when she comes out of her bedroom. I mean, you can smell One-Eye, too, but still. It's like this reminder every day, a couple times a week anyway. You know what I'm saying? It's like an advertisement saying, 'I HAVE SEX.' It's kind of hard to ignore."

"Especially for you," Ororo said with a conciliatory tone. Logan nodded as if he had just gotten an 'Amen' from the choir, and she had to laugh.

"Logan," Ororo laughed.

"What?"

"Your infatuation with Jean. It's…cute." She gave him a maternal smile, but he looked offended.

"No it's not."

She chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry. It's not cute."

Logan crossed his arms and leaned on the table to give an impression of calm when in fact Ororo could tell his tempers were warming. "What about what I just said was cute?"

She laughed again. "Your crush on Jean is cute sometimes. That's all I'm going to say."

"Yeah, well." Ororo could tell he was dissatisfied with her response and tempted to continue arguing, but he let it go, pushing the idea of his cuteness away like rotten fruit. "So what I was going to say before you insulted me is that with you it was different. You were never having sex. I could tell."

_Well._ She blinked at him a few times before finding her words. "I appreciate that, Logan. Thank you."

"I thought you were like Kurt."

"You thought I was celibate?" She held up his finger to him. "Now, I have definitely talked about men, and I know you've heard me."

He snorted and walked to the other side of the table to take his shot. An indigo four sailed into a corner pocket effortlessly. "Yeah, but in this way like some office lady talks about a guy on a soap opera. It was never gonna happen."

"Again, thank you, Logan," she said, her own arms now crossed defensively.

"I mean...I don't mean it was never gonna happen because you couldn't get the guy. I don't mean it like that. I mean, it was obvious in your voice that you knew - you had decided - nothing would happen. It was, you know, just talk. I don't know why. I mean, you're a good-lookin' woman. You're damn good-lookin'." For a moment, his eyes dropped away from her face to other parts of her body. "Maybe you were in the closet. Maybe you were uptight. Maybe you had some hang ups..."

"Logan, is there a question at the end of this?

He took a deep breath and looked at her seriously. "Yesterday. Where the hell did that come from?"

Ororo sighed. _So is this why he came by the room? _"Logan, surely by now you know that I don't want to talk about it."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I'm not trying to find out who the guy is. I just don't know how you can go from being a year, maybe even two years without sex, to running into some guy on the trail and then bam, you come back with the state of Alaska tattooed on your neck."

"Well, I guess that's what it was. It had been a long time."

His eyes were suddenly intense, unnervingly so, and he stared straight into her eyes as if not wanting to miss any nuance. "So is that all took? Any guy would have done?"

_What is this about? Does he disapprove?_ "Please tell me you're not being self-righteous."

He looked confused with her question, but shook it off and looked back into her eyes. "What? No. Hell no. I just didn't know you were that hard up."

Ororo felt her teeth grit involuntarily. "Well. You're three for three with the compliments tonight. Do you want to continue to insult me or would you like to get back to playing pool?" She picked up her cue to resume the game but felt Logan's remarks like a burr rubbing against her skin, and put the cue back down. "Logan, what is your problem tonight? At the meeting you didn't want to look at me. Don't deny it. And then you come by out of the blue to invite me to play pool only to make underhanded remarks at my expense. What did I do to upset you?"

He stared at her for much longer than she expected, and she began to wonder if his behavior was related to an ancient offense long forgotten by her. _Maybe this has nothing to do with the weekend._ In her mind, she ran through their past altercations, looking for actions that could have triggered a festering resentment, but found none. When he finally opened his mouth, she was almost fearful of what he would say.

"I want to see your hicky."

"What?"

"I know you showed it to Jean."

A geyser of laughter burst forth from her chest as the ridiculousness of the moment cracked her tension. "You're mad because I didn't show you my hicky? You're joking." She continued to laugh, thinking of Scott's similar request, not quite believing Logan's gravity. He stood for a while, glaring from a distance, but then something flickered inside and he bolted towards her grabbing her around her waist and pinning her arms to her sides. "Logan, what are you…" Before she could finish, he pulled the collar of her robe and shirt down over her left shoulder, far down, leaving her neck, shoulder, and a large portion of her chest bare.

A sharp whistle sang through his teeth, and she shivered. His face was close enough that the breeze of his breath dissipated on her chest. "He did a number on you."

"Logan, you stretched my T-shirt." She was angry but less so than she would have expected. Instead she felt a resignation toward the temporary insanity in the house induced by her escapade. And being this close to Logan, she couldn't help a slight thrill at the musculature rippling beneath his clothes. His eyes trailed from her collar down to the beginning curve of her breast where a light but long scab, an unintentional scratch in the heat of the moment, trailed toward the tip of a barely covered nipple.

"Did you enjoy it, at least?"

"Yes," she said, trying not to think of it.

He held her there for a few more breaths – she counted each one as it hit her naked skin – evaluating the marks left by the mystery man. "Well, good," he said releasing his grip. "'Cause if you hadn't, I would have had to go teach the guy a lesson."

***

That night she lay in her bed running through the code she'd learned. 20#*1583**7#8600#*#4, and then again, 20#*1583**7#8600#*#4, and then again, replacing the memories of Sabretooth's hands on her body with Logan's because she had to think of something.


End file.
